Someone's Island
by Sideshow Cellophane 26
Summary: A parody of Gilligan's Island, only Simpson style! Our castways: Marge, Maggie, Sideshow Mel, Cecil and Gino Terwilliger, and two OCs - Isabella's mine, Stephanie, the eldest Simpson child, is Sideshowjazz1's . Most of the summary is inside, and I accept any GI episode requests anyone may have, since this is a parody. Read and review and request!
1. The Storm

**You know what? I love Gilligan's Island. I love The Simpsons. And I have permission to use SideshowJazz1's Stephanie Simpson. I was planning on writing a different Simpsons story with Stephanie, but my inspiration was lost due to this. I hope it's alright, but I couldn't finish the other story, even when I attempted to force myself. But I really wanted Stephanie in this, she was a big part in the inspiration.**

**Also, several references to my other fic**_**, Life**_**, is in this. So, I present this:**

The sun blazed down on Marge as she got out the paint cans.

_Oh, Homer. _Why _must you _always_ get us into these situations_?

Stephanie was beside her, helping. Not exactly by will. All of her friends were out of town, including Tasha.

Maggie was there too, carrying several brushes. Homer had taken the kids to Krustyland, attempting to keep them away. Marge had Stephanie and Maggie to help.

The heat index was pushing at least hundred seven, so everyone was dressed. Marge was wearing, since Bart and Steph were babies, a (rather skimpy) rust red vest top, sort of like Mary Ann from _Gilligan's Island_. Well, it was hot! Stephanie was wearing a black undershirt, with shorts that her fingertips could go a half-inch past. Even Maggie was wearing the same as Steph, only with white.

They made their way over to the dock in silence. Marge checked the contract. This was it.

She sighed. "Here it is." They gazed upon the boat Homer and Lisa had won from Krusty through the nuclear contest. It was a nice size, but looked well-worn. There was rust and peeling paint most everywhere, and the name was peeled off.

"This crappy load of steel? Didn't dad look at it before calling in?" Stephanie made a face.

"All that he heard was 'free boat.' That's why we have the paint." She set the buckets down. So did Stephanie and Maggie.

"Why do we have to do it while they go off to Krustyland? That's not fair, it's their problem."

"I thought that Krusty would have someone here to help us. Besides, if Homer had been anywhere near this, then things would have just turned out even worse for us. It's better to attack these problems before your father goes any deeper."

Stephanie grumbled, reluctantly picking up a brush. Maggie followed her family on deck, sweating.

* * *

"Krusty, I am honored that you decided to take me on your cruise with you." Sideshow Mel was a bit nervous, despite the vacation.

The last time Krusty took him anywhere was to the wrestling match. And what he found out that night was repulsive.

Mel was married to Krusty's sister, that he knew. But for Barbara to cheat on him through her _brother_? God, it was sickening. And it had went on for _eleven years_. Ever since then, Mel hadn't done anything outside of the show with Krusty.

Up until now. Who would say _no _to a free cruise to and from the Caribbean?

"Yeah, yeah."

There was several minutes of silence before they stopped at a dock. They hopped out. Krusty popped the trunk. Mel got out his suitcase, looking around. "Um, Krusty? I don't see our-"

"Here's all that you need," He handed him a slip of paper, then got back into the car. "Just look for the Simpsons, and you'll get it." And he drove off, leaving behind a trail of sand.

Mel saw red. He knew why Bob wanted to kill that damned clown now. God, get a man exited about a free cruise, and then tell him you're leaving him I the dump. The slip of paper was still in his hand. "Please may it be a nice, fat check. Please, may it bring good . . ."

_Mel-_

_Yeah, I know how angry you may be right now. I'll probably make it up to you later. But I couldn't find anyone who would do this for me for free or willingly, so I decided to use you. Just help fix up a boat I gave to them, and we'll all be happy. _

Mel scrunched up the paper, throwing it onto another boat.

_Mrs. Pennycandy knew about this? The clown can't write, so she knew!_

He dragged his suitcase down the pier, checking each boat. Finally, he saw Marge.

She met his eye. "Mel?"

He grumbled, still outraged and cheated from a tropical cruise. The suitcase aside, Mel picked up a brush.

"Hey, you alright?" Stephanie came out from below deck with three cans of soda.

"No." He started on the side.

"Krusty sent _you_ to help? Ooh, you didn't want to, did you?" She got on her knees, offering him a can.

Mel grumbled, accepting the cool drink. "He gets to go on a cruise to the Caribbean and back here, the trip lasting around a month, while _I_ get to stay and help paint your stinking boat."

"Mmmm, well, why don't we take a break for a little while, get accustomed to the heat, and then we'll get to work? It isn't as good as a cruise, but there's no point in grumbling all day about it."

Mel smiled, and got up, following the rest inside.

* * *

"Lo Zio Cecil, when can we attack?" Gino fanned himself with his hands, knife in lap.

"As soon as we can get them alone."

"When will that-a be?"

"Soon," He snapped back. _It has to be very soon now. Even in the cool embrace of the shade, we find ourselves sweating._

He had on, for once in his life, a neon-orange T-shirt. *The scars showed on either arm, on the right a giant B was engraved, never to go away*. Gino hadn't stopped staring at it, still couldn't. He hadn't asked any questions, polite child, but they would soon come. He was wearing his usual outfit, overalls and such.

But both were _sweating_, and soon they would have no choice but to-

"Yes!" He grinned. They were going inside the boat! Cecil helped Gino up and walked out from behind the bush.

They walked casually on, as if they owned it. Cecil checked behind him, making sure no-one was looking, and then cut the ropes connecting the ship to the dock, sending them adrift.

* * *

We were seated at the small table in the puny kitchen. All of our excess stuff was in the "den," ready to be unpacked. Tomorrow.

Everyone was laughing now, including me. Mel _is_ pretty funny when there isn't some cheesy script for five-year-olds to follow. He was in the middle of doing a "Homer impression," and what dad impression _wasn't_ funny?

He was crossing his eyes, sticking his tongue out and repeating what dad had said that one St. Patrick's Day when he was drunk in front of a camera. Not Bart, this was before that happened. Maggie had taken out her pacifier she was laughing so hard, and mom had her head in her hands. I was cupping my hands to my mouth, tears brimming.

"Oh yeah? Well, I *_hic_* don't have insurance! It's easy. *_BURP_* all that you have to do is call in a crane guy. I don't weigh that much! And why not *_hic_*? I only weigh *_hic_* three . . . Hundred," Even he let go after that one. We all sat there, laughing, until someone cleared their throat.

I looked up, wiping my eyes. Everyone was still laughing. I stopped, looking directly behind mom. I drew in a breath, "Mom!"

She looked up at me, attempting to stop. Cecil Terwilliger, Sideshow Bob's brother, put his hand on her shoulder. "Hiya, _Lucy_."

_Lucy?_

She froze. Everyone stopped laughing as Gino stepped out as well from the shadows. He came up behind Maggie. I remembered meeting him in Italy, that brief two minutes we had alone. Poor kid was lonely as I recalled, the others just liked him for his father. I wondered if he would actually kill, or if he was just acting brave for the family.

"Hiya Charlie Brown." She sounded so casual, like they knew each other.

_But I don't remember them meeting. Did they? They must have, he's after her it seems._

"And who are you?" Mel stood. We all followed his lead.

"Whatever you plan on doing is going to fail. Again. And we'll live our lives while yours are rotting in jail."

"Marge, you've raised a heathen," Cecil tsked, "Of course, I already knew when I saw both your husband and son on St. Patrick's Day. God, when did-"

"Why don't you compare my record to yours? Or should I simply bring up Maris, and you'll just end up crying like a little baby?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning. He shifted, "Now that's pretty low, even for you."

"Who's Maris? And, once again, who are you?"

"Cecil Terwilliger. This is Gino . . . She was my wife." He seemed deep in thought. And then, of course, held up a gun.

"A gun? Once again, I can easily disarm you-"

"Stephanie!"

"And I bet she had a good reason to divorce, too," I wasn't gonna go down without a fight!

_Now_ he looked hurt. And then gave me a glare, a fire dancing behind his eyes. Mom gave me the same. "She. DIED!" He lunged for me, dropping the gun. Gino didn't do anything, he didn't know what to do.

Mel grabbed Cecil's shirt by the collar, momentarily choking him. In return, he swiped the hand away and punched him in the jaw.

Mine dropped.

Mom got in-between the two, pulling their hair backwards and down. Mel settled, but Cecil pushed her forward. She turned and scratched his arm, which now revealed to be covered in scars. On his right was a giant B.

_Was that . . . Bob?_

He cried out, and threw it backwards. He stumbled a bit, flailing against the wall. She pinned his arms to it, her face in his. They were both panting.

"_If you lay one finger on one of my daughters, then I WILL beat you to a pulp. _Maris and Neil are DEAD, and it is _not. My. Fault_."

I was quite proud of mom then and there. But what did she have to do with his family? I think I would remember meeting them, wouldn't I?

I opened my mouth to congratulate her, but stopped when the ship sent us all flying to the left. I grabbed onto the table, watching the toddlers. They, by now, had gotten a hold of each other. But not to fight. Maggie was clutching Gino's shirt, he grabbed a hold of my hand.

The ship swayed again. Mom let Cecil go. "What's going on?"

"I think there were supposed to be storms coming in. It's alright, we're tied to the dock, we'll be fine," Mel answered.

Gino tightened his grip on my hand. "Um. Uh, Uncle?"

"Ah-ha. Yes, about that . . ." He tugged on his collar.

"What?" Mom was a little slow, but I realized what he did.

"Dude. Copy-catting your brother a little? Were you gonna ask if we had a last request as well?"

He frowned. "What? Bob already did this?"

"Well it doesn't matter now! We need to see how far out we are!"

Mel opened the door. A huge burst of salty wind blasted my face, blowing in rain. Thunder roared, lightening striked, rain came down in buckets, you get the jist, it was a storm! He ran out, followed by Cecil and mom. I almost ran too, until I realized Gino and Maggie were holding onto me now.

"Please, don't leave-a us!"

Maggie sucked on her pacifier, giving me the puppy face.

I gazed at the door.

_Stay inside with the kids. Go outside in the storm._

I looked back at them. Gino didn't look so brave now, compared to that opera. He looked more like the child I talked to when his friends abandoned him to see his father. He knew exactly how (they kept asking for favors, nice things in shop windows, ya know?) they abused his upper power.

I attempted to pick them both up (success!), and went into the bedroom. I set them down, recalling the old days when I was the one stuck with Bart and Lisa during thunder storms. Of course, that was when we were really young. Like, I was six, maybe seven. They would come running into my room. Or, more accurately, Bart would carry Lisa. Then we'd stay up a good part of the night telling stories, singing, or whatever kept them calm.

I got on the bed now, and started singing softly, "_Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I through with playing by the rules of someone else's game…**" _They fell asleep when I started on a _Les Mis _song. I covered them both with an extra blanket. Now I was free.

I ran outside, getting my balance. Waves crashed onto the boat, soaking me. I ran up to the helm of the ship, trying to see through the fog. It was _thick_, I literally couldn't see my hands two inches from my face.

I grabbed a hold of something solid, and followed that wherever it went. I soon figured out it was the side of the boat; the waves felt like someone punching me in the face.

Something wet.

I staggered backwards, and was knocked down by another. It felt like someone had cracked my back, I thought I even heard one.

_Wait . . . Might've been the lightening._

I fell and hit my head on something quite solid, and saw stars. Then there was a blinding white flash, and nothing.

* * *

**Alright. There's the storm. Also, I know the whole Maggie and Gino thing took off pretty fast, but c'mon. Gilligan and Mary Ann, Gino and Maggie.**

**Lo Zio - Italian for uncle.**

*** - In a chapter of **_**Life**_**, Cecil catches Bob with an illegal drug (Focusin). In return, he does this to his arms so Cecil won't tell. I don't care if I ruined anything, you already know he comes out scarred.**

**** - Wicked is not mine. I own nothing from Broadway.**

**Once again, Stephanie Simpsons is SideshowJazz1's. I own nothing from the Simpsons, all rights go to Matt Groening.**


	2. The Island

Maggie woke up, still clutching Gino. She remembered the night perfectly, how it all went down. The storm, Cecil, Mel, Stephanie, everything and one.

Her pacifier wasn't in her mouth. She didn't care right now. She got up, letting go of Gino. He stirred, and settled back down. The door was wide open, swinging in a breeze.

_We're not on water. I don't feel the boat swaying, we're on land!_

Maggie went out through the door, grinning. They were gonna live! That is, if she found them. She went through the main hallway, finally opening the door outside. She gasped at the sight in front of her.

To the left, Sideshow Mel was under several fishing nets.

To the right, Marge was sprawled across the ground. Her feet were on Cecil's back.

But Stephanie was nowhere in sight. Maggie checked both sides of the boat, her sister nowhere to be seen. Frantically, she scanned the back, panicking. Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw something black on the beach. It was her.

She jumped off the boat, thankful for Steph arguing with Marge Maggie would get heat stroke if she wore her usual one-piece. She waded through the shallow water, going as fast as she could. When she got to the body, Maggie checked her pulse (something learned from taking care of Homer).

_Alive_

Her hair was in her face, the roots going brown again, the coloring stolen by the sea. There was a giant gnash in her forehead, going from the side of her face to the top of the head.

Her breath was shallow, a dry rasp. Maggie turned to look at the boat, then back at Stephanie.

_Don't leave her, don't leave her, I need to leave her, I need to get help_

Maggie turned to go back to the boat when she saw aqua hair sticking up. The bone was still there. She started to run now, waving her hands.

* * *

"Oh god, what will Homer and the children think?"

"Marge, I'm sure they'll be fine. Lisa's smart, she can take care of them until we get back," Mel went back to the radio they had salvaged.

Stephanie had her eyes open, but made no remark. Cecil was tending to her wound, which was quite serious. Her complexion was already pale (er), though her breathing had gotten better.

The current-castaways were all seated in a circle, listening to the Springfield News.

"_So, in conclusion, those poor, defenseless kittens will have to stay in that tree. At least until the firemen fix the ladder. And on another story, we have six people filed missing. Miss Marge Simpson and her oldest and youngest daughters disappeared Saturday. As did Cecil and Gino Terwilliger, uncle and nephew. They were on parole, and released after the police interviewed the parents of Gino. He was taken into the care of his uncle so the parents could have a day-off, and hasn't been seen since."_

Gino sniffed. Cecil patted his shoulder.

"_And, adding onto the pile, a local celebrity went missing after his employer left with him for a Caribbean cruise. However, he was never checked in, and is considered missing as well. So, if anybody sees Sideshow Mel, please let somebody know so they can spread the news._

"_And, adding onto the cases, here are several of the family members to give you inspiration."_

The microphone cackled as it was handed over to the guest.

"_Hello? Is this on?"_

"_Yes Mr. Simpson, you're on the air right now."_

"_Good. Because I want to tell all of you the feeling of coming home to two children and no wife, instead of four children and Marge's famous steak. Not knowing whether they're alive or not. And, once again, coming home to two nightmares. No offense, Lisa and Bart."_

There was grumbling in the background. Marge shut her eyes, cupping her hands to her mouth.

"_I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I want to let you all know one thing before I hand this microphone to my children. If Marge, Stephanie, or even Maggie is listening to this broadcast, then please, please let me know you're alive. I can't live as a single father. I just can't live without Marge."_

Marge began to cry. Stephanie shut her eyes, trying not to listen. Impossible. Maggie gripped Gino's hand harder, making him lose sensation.

Lisa's voice came up next. "_I don't know what to say. I know Cecil and Gino didn't kill you four, because Gino would be with his parents, especially if he had run away. Bart? You wanted to say something?"_

Lisa sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

"_Yeah. Mom, Lisa's cooking is horrible. I've had to live with it for three days now. _Three days_. Stephanie, if you don't come back in three days, I'll take your wallet."_

Stephanie grinned, slipping a wad of cash out of her pocket.

"_Maggie? I really don't know what to say about you. You'll just come with mom, I'm sure of it. Just come home soon, K? Dad's convinced that you're not coming home, and Lisa's being a drama queen about it. Just get your butts home already; I'm starting to miss you."_

Stephanie gazed at the radio while the microphones were switched. "He's in total denial. Mom, he's really messed up about this."

"_My wife can't speak right now. And honestly, I don't know if I can either. It's been three days now, without our son."_

Gino looked up, pain plastered on his face. Mel saw this clearly, "Would you like me to turn this off?"

He shook his head, listening.

"_We don't know where our son is, or whether or not he's alive. But this is how desperate we are now. Cecil. I know you took him to kill The Simpsons. And, since they were on a boat, you copied me and untied the rim, so you must have drifted off into the ocean. But **dammit Cecil I want my son back!**"_

Cecil switched off the radio. "We don't need to hear these anymore," He spoke carefully, a hint of guilt in his voice. Gino leaned into him.

Mel turned it back on, tuning into the local weather. Wherever the local weather was.

"_There were several storms last night around Honolulu, drifting southeast. Now onto-"_

"_What?!_ _We are southeast of __**Hawaii?!**_**"** Mel jumped up, shocked.

"Don't yell," Stephanie moaned. "And who says we're south of Hawaii?"

"Look at those storms heading our way." He pointed out past the beach, where clouds as black as midnight were gathering.

She suddenly remembered the other night. Her head didn't hurt _that_ much. She turned to Cecil, "Hey, how do you and mom know each other?"

They froze. Marge carefully answered, "We were friends in fourth grade."

"But why does he hate you? And who are Maris and Neil?"

"Yes, I'd like to know that as well," Mel leaned forward, "We seem to have plenty of time for a story."

"Uhh . . . so we're somewhere near the mainland?"

"No, you can tell in the weather. See, a massive thunderstorm was in Hawaii yesterday, heading southeast. And as you can tell, there are several pretty dark clouds right over—" he stuttered a bit, "don't change the subject! Now, who are Maris and Neil?"

"You know, you're pretty smart," Cecil stood beside Marge with a knowing smile, arms crossed.

"Why thank you. You know, you're pretty bright yours—" More stuttering, "Shall I tell my theory of who they are?"

"Pft. You can try." His smile stretched.

"Maris was your wife. From your statement last night, she is dead. Neil was your son. He must have died with her, but the real question is how?" He tapped his chin, "Sickness?"

Cecil's smile faded. "No."

"Car accident?" Gino spoke for the first time this morning.

"No."

"Plane crash?" Cecil looked at Stephanie.

"Wrong . . . that would be highly unlikely."

She shrugged.

Marge sighed. "They were murdered."

"Well, it wasn't technically manslaughter. He started the fire and jumped out the window."

"With those two guys you said you saw."

"Yes, but they had almost nothing to do with it, Tom was the one who-"

"So why then do you blame her for a fire another man started?" Mel wanted to get this argument over with so they could get out of the storm.

"I don't blame her. Entirely."

Marge sighed. "I may have promised him something that I couldn't keep. And he heard Homey talking me out of that promise."

"And all in the night of the funeral, too. Did you hear me after he was finished?"

"Who couldn't? It was like you were screaming it _into my ear_. And really? You had to go with Phantom of the-"

"Will you two stop _bickering?!_ God, I feel like a mother watching you two!"

"Why, do you feel like one?" Cecil had that smile back.

"I am one. You get used to it." Marge did too.

"But I'm a man!"

"Are you sure?"

Everybody started laughing, the first time since the other night. Even Mel, though the joke was meant against him.

* * *

Cecil finished with her head, wiping his hands. "Done. You're welcome."

"I never said thank you." She snapped.

"Once again Marge, your daughter's attitude is quite snide. She should-"

"Nevermind anyone's attitude! Does anyone realize how much danger we are on the beach? We need to salvage as much from the shipwreck as possible before the storm pulls it out to sea. And then find a cave to protect ourselves in! I cannot believe how long it took me to think of that!"

Everyone stared at Mel. Then at each other. Then at the storm. Then at their feet. And then, after all of those 'thens,' they started to comb through the boat.

It wasn't long before the first bolt of lightning hit the other side of the island, making everyone jump. They finally noticed that the storm was nearing the shore, covering the scorching sun with jet-black clouds.

They had salvaged several changes of clothes Marge had brought, just in case. Mel's suitcase had plenty of clothes in it, several fitting Cecil. And then the contents of the fridge were brought out. It wasn't much, the sodas were finished off. There were several different types of fruit, and some veggies. Then they had stripped the bed sheets, fitting them into two bags.

And that was mostly it.

Marge and Cecil helped Stephanie walk; the injury had left her dizzy. Everyone trudged through the forest, and stumbled upon a path.

"See? There are people on this island." Stephanie brought up the argument from before about the island being deserted or not.

"That doesn't mean it's a good thing. From what I've heard in several Hawaiian books, there are supposed to be natives around these islands. As in headhunters, called the Marubi." Mel didn't even look behind, or stop walking.

No-one said anything after that. They followed the path to a lagoon. It was nice and big to use as a swimming pool. There were two other paths, one going straight, one going right, directly away from the lagoon.

"If we go into the jungle, we have a better chance of finding a cave. If we head straight, we'll most likely end up on the beach." Mel lead them right.

A few minutes later, they ended up in a clearing. With five huts. There was a long table in the center of them all, with a fruit bowl on the end.

"Are those headhunter huts? If so, then _Maggie get your butt back here!_" Marge snapped her fingers.

"No, no. These can't be, the tribes usually come in bigger sizes. Look how little that table is, that can only seat six or seven. The Marubi travel in bigger groups. That means there are other castaways!"

Marge marveled at how smart he was. Cecil was pretty smart too, but Mel was the one who kept pointing out these things.

He ran to the nearest hut, opening the door. His face lit up, something that almost never happened on the Krusty show. He went inside, dropping his suit case to the side of the door.

Marge and Cecil carefully set down Stephanie. She fell to the side Cecil was on, breathing heavily.

"W-what's wrong with her?"

"Her head. She's lost a lot of blood; she isn't going to be that strong."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" She sounded a bit whiny, or more that she had trouble speaking.

"Hush. If you want me to say it to your face, you've lost more blood than you should have. Your body needs rest for it to get healthy again, otherwise you may die." Marge pulled up a chair, helping her balance.

Stephanie glared at the coconut tree closest to them. "Why can't you at least put me in a hut and leave?"

"I'll do it later, if it's abandoned. Or if we find a cave, I can just trhow you in there."

"Hey now," Cecil used the same tone *Maris used once on Neil when he refused to go to bed after a long day traveling to Orlando Studios. Actually, he quoted her,* "No need to get snappy. We're already stuck together in this miserable space, we might as well get along with one another before things turn ugly."

Silence.

Marge gave him one last look before leaning back, letting go of Stephanie. Steph wavered for a moment, but stayed in the seat, leaning against the table.

* * *

Cecil stood behind them, not knowing what to do. Gino and Maggie had gone back to the lagoon for a swim; it was at least a hundred ten out. Maybe twenty. And Mel was still in the hut.

He listened to the sound of the trees swaying in the wind. Watched the storm clouds strike the other side of the island. That fire that started by the lightening strike on the other side of the island. That big puff of smoke from the fire. And, out of the blue, he heard a soft cry, like a dove.

Probably was. Hawaii wasn't exactly his best subject, unlike France. He knew about Honolulu, but not surviving on one of its many deserted islands. He also knew a lot about wine, that was one of his best—

There it was again. This time, he was sure it was a little girl, and she was crying. It was coming from one of the huts. The girls took no notice; Marge was busy fussing over Homer and the kids. Cecil followed the girl's sound, following it to the farthest hut from the table. Slowly, he opened the door.

_Yes, she's in here. _

There was a small bed in the corner of the one-room hut, a little space in-between the wall and mattress. There was a small shelf on the opposite wall with a suitcase on top. There was a nightstand next the bed, with a red candle sitting in the center.

The crying turned to sniffles as a small head poked up from the small space between the bed and wall. The girl had salmon pink hair, he noticed, down to her waist. Other than that, she looked like Eponime (from _Les Mis_) with the dress she was wearing.

She looked Cecil up and down as he had her, and walked straight up to his legs with a weakened moan, hugging him. He just looked down stupidly at her, taking pity. She was only four or five years old. Lifting her into his arms, they sat on the bed.

She had stopped crying now, but still sniffled a bit. Cecil took his chance, "Who are you?"

She looked up at him with a mixture of grey and jade eyes, the exact same color as Maris's. She even had the same distinct appearance as her. "I-Isabella Magenta Heart. Momma calls me Izzy."

"That's a rare name to strike upon these days. It's as rare as you are beautiful."

"Huh? Uh, sir?" She shook her head.

"That's a pretty name." _Too… _much_ like Maris. _

"Thanks." She was silent for a few seconds, and then gasped. "You need to help me!"

"What? What is it?"

She got up and began to pull him towards the door. "Mama! You need to help us!"

He let her lead him out the door, almost running straight into Mel. He was looking down at a letter in his hands. He looked down at Isabella with a solemn face. "You must be Isabella, then."

"Yeah . . . who are you?" She drew out the words. "I haven't seen you since . . . ever."

"Mel. I prefer Mel." He turned to Cecil and dropped his voice, "I suggest you read this."

"What is –ooh."

The letter read:

_To whomever finds this note period,_

_My husband Len, my daughter Isabella, and I myself have been shipwrecked. There was a massive storm off the coast of Hawaii, and our ship meant nothing to the waves that hit us repeatedly. We found ourselves on this island, a wonderful, beautiful paradise._

_Only to those who can protect themselves._

_If you are shipwrecked, or have family or children, you must find a way off this island. They have been placed in mortal danger. There are neighboring headhunters and natives on surrounding islands, the Marubi. And witchdoctors. I hadn't believed in them until we landed here. There are caves on this island, caves full of ancient pottery and jewelry that were—are—belongings of ancient civilizations. Don't move them. Don't even enter any caves. Because witchdoctors do exist. Trust me, they have messed with my family and I, and it is not compatible. Don't do it._

_And now for the finale. My family is not safe here. There are poisoned berries on the island, and that will do. I have already given several to Izzy, I don't think she knew that anything was wrong. Len however claimed I was crazy, that we couldn't die yet, we wouldn't. He said he would go off into the forest, and leave Izzy and me. He wouldn't have lasted very long either, so I snuck the forbidden fruit into his water before he left. It was for the better good, so he wouldn't die a slow and painful death._

_I am writing this before it kicks into my system. But allow me to write one last sentence, and we will be alright. I d_

And that was it. Cecil flipped it over, checking for more. None.

He covered his mouth. Mel nodded, "Uh-huh."

Isabella saw the others seated at the table. "You were shipwrecked too? Father said this island wasn't on the map. And after that storm, we drifted for several miles before landing on here. How did the weather get you here?"

Gino and Maggie had come back to the table, laughing. Without waiting for her answer, she went over. Both men followed, uneasy. Cecil handed the paper to Mel, going over the hut. He wanted to see it.

The mother was on the bed, sheets pulled over her head. Compliments of Mel. Cecil decided not to uncover her. The woman had been dead for a while now, there were several flies gathering around the sheets. Feeling a bit queasy, his gaze shifted from the bed to the rest of the room. It was just like Isabella's, only there were two beds altogether.

He stepped outside. Everyone was talking, gathering the stuff. Stephanie was standing up on her own, pushing Marge's help away.

_Off to the cave, then._

Isabella lead them, saying, "I know almost every inch of this place! Momma and Father and I have been on here since February!"

_I hope we aren't here that long. _He shuddered at the thought.

* * *

**Introduction to my OC Isabella (or Izzy).** **She's the seventh castaway in this series, in case anyone cared about numbers. Also, I will now be accepting Gilligan's Island episode requests, now that the introduction is over. Any Gilligan fans out there?**

**And I hope Stephanie was alright in this chapter, I mainly wanted to introduce Izzy. But everybody will have their own chapters and episodes.  
**

**** - Once again, Maris and Neil are Cecil's deceased family. I basically told you what happened to them though, so no need for this.  
**


	3. 1 Voodoo Whatdoo?

(_Theme of Gilligan's island—I'm totally having fun with this )_

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

It had been several days, now. Almost a week. And they were still on the island. They had mostly settled down inside the huts provided, and had plenty of clothes from Izzy's mother. Except for Maggie and Gino, they had to wear Marge-made clothes.

In other words, Maggie had to wear some of Izzy's clothes, and Gino had Marge make several other shirts and a pair of shorts from some of Len's clothes. But they had settled down, the food wasn't low, there was a fresh-water well, and huts somebody else made.

Life was good right now, despite the fact they were separated from their dearly beloved.

Mel called out again, "_Cecil!_" (**Please don't think of him in the same Krusty costume we always see him in. Please think of him in the original professor's clothes.)**

"_In here! Here, here, here, here,_" His voice echoed off of the cave walls.

"In where? Where, where whe- _ooh_." He sighed, entering the cave. "I thought we made it clear that we weren't to enter this cave anymore."

Cecil was bent down, picking through the gravel and pulling up priceless objects. "I know. But I lost my glasses."

"You don't wear glasses."

A pause. "I lost my picture of Maris, Neil and I at Orlando Studios," he admitted, "but look at what else I have found!"

He stood, brushing off his pants, and then held up a clay plate. It had blue spirals worn down by the dirt, and in the center some sort of engraving.

Mel looked away, like a stubborn child refusing to eat dinner. "Put it back, please."

"What?" Cecil laughed, "You're really afraid of made-up witchdoctors, a stupid tale spun by a suicidal mother on her death bed?" He was referring to Isabella's mother's last note.

"Just . . . I work with Krusty! Of course I believe in curses!"

Cecil rolled his eyes, but picked up a mask he had uncovered and left. Mel followed, not looking back. Or feeling the pair of eyes on his back as he ran to catch up with Cecil.

* * *

Back at camp, Stephanie was marveling at the objects in the Work Hut (also the kitchen, a lab Mel had set up, and several other uses). "My god," she breathed, "this is gorgeous! It's way better than anything I can make in art! Possibly."

"And Mr. Scared-Out-Of-His-Wits over here didn't want me to even touch them."

"My uncle served in the Navy. He was always telling me about curses and voodoo on Hawaiian Islands and New Orleans. I basically grew up listening to those tales."

"Hm. Wise tales? He and my grandpa would get along pretty well."

"My uncle is dead."

"Even better, they'll get along perfectly." She looked up at Mel. Stephanie had taken Cecil's advice; they were indeed stuck here, so it might as well _not_ be miserable. She had tried her best to stay happy, and stayed away from Marge by playing with the younger kids. As it turns out, Isabella had a lot in common with her. She loved Broadway as well, and was even a pretty good singer. The same with Gino, though he only knew several Italian operas, _Les Miserables_, and _Phantom of the Opera_. But Isabella seemed a bit secretive. She was fun to hang around with, and wasn't as annoying as Bart was at that age, but when she was just sitting alone, she had this strange look in her eye. It was troubled. But they were still fun.

She found it relaxing to unwind with them. But Tasha was much missed. And hair dye. The black coloring had mostly come out, there was just a little left on the hair ends. She had tried desperately to replace it with blackberry juice, but those only lasted a few hours. And they weren't really worth three hours of squeezing onto each lock of hair, only to last less than a day, so for now she was a brunette again.

"So what else did you guys find?"

"Some jewelry that I'm donating to you and the girls, a couple of jars, vases, other masks, and basically a bunch of other stuff. It's really quite amazing, true examples of Mayan artwork." Cecil looked down at a particular mask and added, "And it proves that they were far ahead of their time. Just look at this one, it looks just like the wife of the Greek god Zeus, Helena."

Mel turned away with a look.

"Can't you even look at them?" Stephanie held up the mask in Mel's face. He turned away. She moved it, smushing it against his face.

"Will you please?! Who knows what kind of curse could be on those? Why, all of us may be hexed until those are safely underground. But for now, who knows when one can just come in and-"

Maggie opened the door. Mel was unfortunately leaning against it. He yelped and jumped, earning laughter from the rest.

Stephanie picked her up, "Yeah, my baby sis is a curse, alright. She has a rattle and knows how to use it!"

Mel blushed while they laughed. He went outside, grumbling.

* * *

"Oh, Izzy, just look at these!" Marge held up a golden necklace laced with pearls, diamonds, and rubies.

"I feel like I'm lost in a jewelry store all alone!" Izzy picked up another from the box.

Marge was sitting on a chair, her back to the young girl. Izzy was standing on top of hers, so they were literally neck-to-neck. Both put on their necklaces at the same time.

Nobody was in the clearing. Nobody saw the witchdoctor just standing outside the window, watching the two.

"How do I look?"

"I dunno, I can't see."

"Here," Marge stood. As she did, she also choked Isabella in doing so.

She made a gurgling sound. Marge quickly sat back down, pulling at the back of the necklace. "Oh! Ow! They're stuck!"

"Ow! You're pulling my hair! And don't stand up, you'll strangle me!"

"Mmmm, how do we get out of this?!"

The witchdoctor didn't understand their tongue, but he knew they were stuck. Looking down, he saw a small table with a hat and a brush. He took these two, and took out the dolls.

A couple of seconds later, the girls were both leaning forward, tugging at the necklaces. "Ooh, I guess we're gonna be stuck this way forever!" Izzy threw her hands down.

The witchdoctor put both dolls back-to-back as the girls were, and simply pulled them apart like magnets.

Suddenly, the jewelry finally gave, and both almost fell. They both grinned in bewilderment, looking at each other and the necklaces, perfectly fine.

* * *

Maggie joined Gino in their hut. She used Rattle to tell him, "_Have you seen my pacifier?"_

"I really do not-a think I am a one to use a pacifier."

* * *

The witchdoctor put the strange contraption inside his mouth, sucking it. It felt good. Relaxing, even. It tasted a lot like fresh baby, too, one of his favorite sacrifices.

* * *

"Speaking of missing things, my knife is gone-eh." He gave her the eye, "You have not been-a using it around the island again, have you? Lo Zio Cecil told you, those monkeys are already bad off-"

"_No, I haven't seen it. Besides, I was talking about something important. What's a regular steak knife gonna do you in a jungle? We have machetes, use them."_

"But papa gave it to me in Italy! It's all that I have of him out here! And what is that thing? It looks like a big bug." He pointed to Maggie's new bow.

"_Something they found in the cave. It's a diamond butterfly."_

"Farfalla?" He winced. "Vendetta . . ."

Marge came in, "Sweeties, there's been a little—oh, you have discovered them."

Without her conditioner, Marge's hair had gone down, revealing it to be six feet long. They had cut it down to just below her shoulders, and she kept it in a ponytail most of the time. It was a huge difference in looks, but made her look . . . real. There was no other description they could come up with, it just looked real.

"Farfalla vendetta!" Gino raised his arm, the opera night stinging into his memory. He started to stab at Maggie and the butterfly, and then stopped from a warning glance from the second-closest parental unit on the island.

"Maybe Maggie can show you how to butterfly hunt later, but for now I need that brooch."

"That-a thing? It is worthless. I have seen those in Tuscany from beggars, they are-a fakes."

"But that isn't from Tuscany. It's centuries of years old and possibly worth millions! We found them in a cave, Mel and Cecil think they were buried by the ancient natives of these islands. We need them all to examine, make a few guesses about how much they'd all be worth, and then you'll have them back."

His mouth dropped while Maggie gave him a smug look, adjusting her ticket to the top. _I'll be even bigger than Burns_

"_Don't want it to go now, do you?"_

"Just for _that?_!" He cried, "What else did you find?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter now. You can pick up one if you like, there are plenty more where that came from."

"Where?"

"The supply hut."

He ran off before they could even process what he said.

* * *

Mel was relaxing with _Macbeth_, a personal favorite. He was seated on the Stephanie-made lounge chairs; her only catch was that she got to use one for herself in a case of infinite dibs. For some apparent reason though, Macbeth sort of reminded him of Homer. After a while, Mel grew to fear both men.

Someone ran past him, a blue and red blur, and a road of white sand trailing him. _Dear god. They're all going to be hexed. Well, it won't be my fault._

The trail came back, skidding along the sand. Gino stood there, panting. "I know about the cave, but where is it?"

"I—I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

He leaned forward, "Because it is cursed! If you rifle through something that is not yours, you are hexed. A witchdoctor will put a voodoo spell on you."

"What's voodoo?"

Mel laid out his fingers, numbering them off, "A witchdoctor takes a personalized item from you. He makes a doll that looks exactly like you. And then he puts a spell to make it work, and your life his literally in his hands!"

"Don't fill the kid's head with stupid myths. School does enough of that."

"Stephanie, these aren't stupid myths. I believe what I believe, and I stay out of yours. Let Gino decide for himself whether or not he believes."

Stephanie sighed. "Gino, listen to me. Your father would kill you, your uncle, and then Mel if you mentioned voodoo. Trust me, I know your family."

Silence.

"All that I wanted to know was where the cave was."

"You aren't going alone?!"

Stephanie stifled laughter, "It's to the left of the lagoon."

Mel grabbed Gino's arm as he started to run, "You are not going in there alone!" He looked at Stephanie, "Both of you."

"Then why don't you come with us?" She mocked.

He let go of Gino and got up. "Alright, then. Let's go, if you really want to."

* * *

The rest were already in the cave when they got there. Cecil was showing Marge, Izzy and Maggie the artifacts.

Cecil looked up when he saw Mel. "Stephanie, I am proud of you. How on earth did you persuade him to step foot within a twenty yard radius of here?"

"Call him a chicken, he brakes. It's just like Dad."

"Don't compare me to that animal! No offense, Marge."

"Hey, he has feelings too! Ooh, I hope they're alright . . ."

"Mom, I'm sure they're fine. Bart I'm not so sure of, but Lisa knows how to take care. And all that dad needs to do is go to Moe's and he's fine."

"Stephanie! Show some respect for your father!"

She smirked. "You don't seem to see your husband very well, do you? Especially these last few months you two have been yelling day and night."

Marge turned red as the others stood back, not daring to step into the fire. Maggie sighed, and took Gino's hand. He whispered into her ear, "If I knew this is what-a happens to you, I would never have tried to kill you. This is hell enough."

"You apologize _right now_ young lady!"

Both were in each other's face by now, "You raised me to tell the truth! So I'm telling you the truth! _You and dad have been acting like you're gonna bring up divorce!_"

"_Why the hell would you think that?!_"

Isabella whispered to Maggie and Gino, "This is how Momma and Father acted before they killed each other."

Despite that statement being for the toddlers, Cecil overheard this. He thought of back when it was just him, Marge and Maris. How Marge had a bad temper on her hands, what she'd do to those bullies. He shuddered at what James looked like that one time after she was through with him.

_He never did speak right after that day . . . or speak at all._

And now, with Stephanie, he remembered the dam. She was pretty strong herself . . . . Despite this being between two of his brother's enemies, Cecil didn't want to take care of three children and a clown by himself. "Alright, let's try not to kill each other over departed family issues. You're making a bad example for the children."

* * *

The witchdoctor still couldn't understand any of them. But he knew that they were bothering him. And that he now had everything he needed. But first, a quick check.

_Head dress, scarf, knife, contraption that goes into mouth, a slide whistle, ginger hair, and bone chip._

He still wasn't sure whether or not the man with the blue hair was with a tribe or not; he had the bone in his hair. Oh well. It was time to start. He lit the match, holding it up under the high-strung dolls' feet.

* * *

"Oh yeah, they're gonna be scarred for life. Izzy's mom and dad killed each other, Gino has gone to jail, and Maggie's witnessed mom and dad fighting and shot a crooked old man. Yeah, they're going to be scarred because of _this_."

Gino moved his position, stepping a little past Maggie.

Izzy shifted her feet.

Maggie shook her right foot.

"He's right." Marge lifted her foot a little off the ground.

"He's right so long as you're right." Stephanie sneered and crossed her arms. "It's always that way, you're right and everyone else is— is anyone else getting hot?" She moved her feet.

"Ow!" Cecil jumped as a particular burn got him right on the sole. "Women and children first! Out!"

They all ran outside, jumping from the extreme heat. They all ran into the lagoon; Isabella jumped in completely. The moment their feet touched the water, steam rose.

Feet stopped burning. Everyone sighed in relief, the fight out of them all.

* * *

Mel, Cecil, Stephanie and Gino were seated at the table.

"Just look at this. There is a hole in the middle of my shoe!" Gino exclaimed.

"There's a hole in my foot," Cecil was messaging his feet, which were indeed red.

Mel sighed. "Explain that, Mr. Skeptic."

"What? Voodoo? Well, it all starts from the volcano on the other side of the island. The ground beneath us heats, apparently . . . burning hot."

"Alright, even I have to admit that's not what happened. Underground lava's not that close to us or that hot if it was. Even I know that." Stephanie stood. She had taken off her shoes, letting the soft sand from underneath the sun cool her off.

"Well, do you have anything better?"

"Once again, how hard is it to believe in voodoo?"

Stephanie ignored Mel. "I don't know. But I know it isn't voodoo," she laughed, "and we have told you time after time after—" She stopped. Moving, talking, you name it, she stood as still as a zombie.

Mel sighed. "Well, I suppose my uncle was a bit crazed after the war. That's when his drinking problem started, too. Even if it was just a sippy cup, he could never aim the straw for his mouth. It would always spill on his forehead, or-"

Gino tapped his shoulder.

"What?"

He and Cecil both held their gaze. Mel followed their stare, and got up. "Stephanie? Are you alright?"

She didn't move.

"Voodoo," Gino whispered.

"No, it isn't possible . . . I mean, it can't be . . . Stephanie?" Cecil snapped his fingers in front of her face. "A zombie." He paused, "Alright. I was wrong, you were right, there. Everything that I believe in is being questioned right now; we may want to tell Marge." He dragged Mel and Gino away to the girls' hut.

* * *

Marge moaned again. Her eyes never left Stephanie as every single fight (which were many) came back to her again and again, each a punch in the face.

_You're right, I'm wrong!_

_You used to be so sweet when you were little . . . ._

_Pft. If you want to baby something, baby Maggie. (Right . . .)_

_(You're right . . .) I don't even have the same beliefs as you! I'm just going to convert to Judaism or something . . ._

_(I'm wrong . . .) Like you're going to bring up a divorce . . . divorce-divorce-divorce_

Awkwardly, Cecil draped his arm around her shoulder. They were the only ones out here now. It had been several hours now, everyone else was in bed.

_You will cuuuuuurse the daaaay you did not dooooo aaaaaaalll that this phantom aaaasked ooof youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!_

"Are you alright?"

"Do you forgive me?" She turned to him.

"What?"

"For Maris and Neil. For everything. But especially that night. But dear god, I'm so sorry."

He didn't say anything for so long that she didn't think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, "I don't forgive you."

"What?" She pushed him away, "That was when you were supposed to say, 'yes, I forgive you Marge. Let's be friends again,'" She fumed.

He didn't even look shaken. "Why would you expect forgiveness? You broke my heart, you broke many promises, you married Homer. Sweetie, you could've done _so_ much better. You have neglected both Lisa and Stephanie back in Springfield from what I have gathered, and here all you seem to do is mother everything and one. You don't notice your surroundings. Why, you still treat Maggie like she can't walk," he spat, "and you treat me like everything between us is perfectly fine."

She was taken back at that last remark. And then she got angry again, "How _dare_ you! How _dare_ you assume those things about my family! What do you know about them? Huh? I chose Homer because he's the sweetest husband you could ever have-"

"-And there's your problem."

She didn't stop, "-and he knows how to be a good father. Maybe not as perfect as you were with Neil, but he knows how to raise children-"

"-He knows how to _strangle_ your children."

"-And then my children have equal attention-"

Cecil began to laugh.

"-Stephanie's always been like that, and Lisa is just going through issues right—stop laughing!"

He had his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"And I treat Maggie that way because she's my last baby—"

"That's it! You refuse to accept the fact that your children are _growing up_. Like you should do."

"Uh, like _you_ should. You're still not over Maris and Neil,-"

"-Don't _even_ bring that up."

"-you tried to kill me because—"

"Because I wanted to see you again!" He yelled, causing her to shut up. "I wanted to look into your eyes one last time, to see your sorrow. I _am_ over their death! I am _not_ over the fact that my brother got me sent to jail! I am _over_ you Simpsons! I am _not_ over seeing my nephew hiding his misery over his parents, hiding it with joy he gets from my and your daughters! But I _am_ over _this island!_" He ran his hands through his hair, backing away from Marge. They both turned at the same time, going back to their huts. Cecil didn't realize until he went back to his hut he called Izzy his daughter.*

It was a miracle no one woke up.

* * *

**I had already started this chapter before I put up the poll; this was one of my all-time favorite Gilligan episodes already. But thank you for voting, whoever you people are. Please R&R, and tell me whatcha think!**

**And the second part will be up sometime, I had to cut the two apart because it was already thirty pages long. But I have started the second part.**

***-Originally, Izzy was going to be Cecil's adopted daughter. I just wanted to draw out their relationship in this story, since I can't go straight into it. **


	4. 2 Voodoo Whatdoo?

"I believe the only way to get Stephanie back is to return the artifacts. This all started when we took them out of the cave." Mel and Cecil were in the supply hut, staring at the items as if they were mocking them. The castaways had put all of them back, scared for Stephanie.

"For once, I agree. I want Stephanie back so she can deal with her insane mother."

"Insane?" Mel raised an eye.

"Spend three minutes in a room alone with her," he fibbed, "ask me again when you get out."

"Let's just get over there."

They stopped just outside the cave, taking a moment to breathe it in.

"Alright," Cecil handed his bag to Mel, "I stand guard out here, and you bury those."

"What?! Why me? I demand we switch."

"Oh, fine," he sighed, "you go in, and I'll stay out here." He sighed again.

"Better." Mel nodded and went in.

About twenty minutes later, he came back out. "I did not realize what you meant until I had already buried the most part of the collection." He sneered.

Cecil snickered and took the shovel. They turned to go back to the huts.

* * *

The witchdoctor put both dolls on the rope. He then took out the goose feathers.

* * *

Mel stopped as they reached the edge of the forest that leaded to the lagoon. Cecil turned around. "What?"

Mel had a huge grin plastered on his face. He began to giggle, and put a hand on his stomach.

"What? What's so funny?"

Mel doubled over laughing, holding his belly. He grasped around, finally grabbing onto a tree. He fell to his knees as Cecil quickly knelt down beside him.

"What is it? What did I—I . . . hm. Heh. Hee." He began to feel something light on the soles of his bigfoot feet, tickling them.

But there wasn't anything there.

Mel was still laughing, clutching his stomach. Cecil started to laugh, slowly realizing what "being voodooed" felt like. Suddenly, he broke out into a fit of giggles when it hit his belly.

* * *

The witchdoctor began to laugh in satisfaction. If the fire didn't get them off the island, this should send them a clear message.

* * *

Mel tried to speak in-between his fit of laughter, "h-i-it's-s-s-v-v-vvvoohoohoohoo," He couldn't take in any more breath, and fell to the ground.

Cecil nodded, laughing and clutching his ribcage. He was already down there, tears welling in his eyes.

* * *

"She's asleep just like momma?"

"No, your momma poisoned herself. Stephanie is just a victim of voodoo."

"Ah."

They all stood side-by-side, staring at Stephanie. She was frozen in mid-sentence.

Maggie sighed. "_If she moves, I'll sing Defying Gravity."_

"You can talk?" Gino looked at her.

She shrugged. "_That we know of."_

There was a moment of silence before Isabella stated, "I miss her. She was a good friend. When Marge wasn't around," She added. "No offense, Maggie."

"_I know she's going crazy."_

"Yes, that last-a fight with Stephanie was a big blow-out."

Maggie paused. "_I know she's going crazy."_

Cecil and Mel came back into the clearing. Both looked uneasy. And both had their arms over their stomachs.

"Did you bury—"

"Yes." Both answered at the same time.

Izzy looked at Cecil. His eyes were red. "Have you been crying?"

"No!" He blushed.

Sorrow filled her face as Mel used that opportunity to make a hasty retreat. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing why would you think anything's wrong because nothing is wrong and I'll just be in my room," He started to power-walk to his hut, his face as red as his burnt feet.

The three watched him go, trying to suppress smiles and curiosity at the same time. Gino was the first to speak, "Well then," He turned to Maggie, "Your momma mentioned something about this—eh, _butterfly_ hunting?"

"_Do you want me to show you?"_

"Si!" He turned to Izzy, "Would you wish to come-a with us?"

She gazed past him at Cecil's hut with a sly look in her eyes. "I can go later. I want to check something."

They had already left, heading into the woods. Izzy turned, going into the hut. "Cecil?"

He was lying on the bottom hammock, staring at the ceiling with a grim look. When she came in he didn't move. "Yes?"

She suddenly felt very shy. "Are you alright?"

"Everything that I believe in has changed."

"What happened?" She brushed her foot against the sand, making a small hill and flattening it out again. She repeated the process.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm nosy." _It's too much like talking to Father. They both have the same tone. _

"It's not good for little girls to be nosy."

_Dear god don't GET UP if you're _quoting_ the man. _"Momma told me to explore life. So I'm nosy."

He sat up and hung his feet over the bedside. Isabella watched with hidden terror, memories of her father flooding back into her mind. Especially the night he went into the forest. "Being nosy in that sense is good, I suppose. But being nosy in this case is what you want to avoid."

He got up. She took a step back, watching the look in his eyes. They were calm, nice, like they usually were. That's why she liked him—he was nice to her. One of the two men who ever were, counting Mel. Gino was the nicest boy she ever met. But Father would have the same look.

He sighed. "You are a bright young girl, Isabella. I hope you stay that way." He took another step forward.

Izzy stepped back again, showing a glimpse of her true fear. This was too much like the first time her father did it, only the eyes were darker. Colder.

He frowned. "What is it?"

She looked down. _Just tell him. _"I like being pretty for once."

"What?" His frown turned to a look of confusion.

"You and Father have the same tone."

"What tone?" He scooped her into his arms.

"The tone he used right before he corrected me."

"Corrected?" He got the message now. The bruises, her term of 'that man,' that look in her eye when she was talking about him, the reason why her mother had bruises on her face and arms . . .

He kissed her head softly, and held her closer to him.

* * *

"So this is, as you say, butterfly hinting?"

"_Hunting."_

"Eh. Yes. This is not my idea of 'fun.'" A red and white butterfly landed on his net. "Joy. I have-a caught a Monarch."

"_It's not a Monarch."_

"I thought all butterflies were monarchs."

"_No. This is a Pussycat Swallowtail, they are really rare!"_

"Are they worth anything?"

"_Probably not dead. If you want money, then you need to keep it alive. Take it to some expert. And then get your money."_

"Can I not just kill it?"

"_No! Just catch the butterfly in a net, and then release it."_

"But it is not-a fun," He complained. The butterfly fluttered its wings, and landed on Maggie's hair. She didn't seem to notice, and had her eyes on another butterfly Gino didn't care to watch.

He instead had another idea.

Swinging the net in a swift stroke down, he had Maggie's head inside. "I caught the Pussycat Swallowtail!"

She turned around and tackled him to the ground with an indescribable squeal. He was taken completely off-guard, and cried out. They twisted on the ground for a few seconds, tangled in a mass of limbs.

They ended up gasping for breath. Gino had ended up on the bottom due to Maggie's head net thwacking his face. She threw it off, laying her head on his chest. He growled, ready for the next attack while the enemy had her guard down.

She looked back up at him, smiling. His growl immediately ceased. Her eyes were the color of the sea, and had a mischievous twinkle in them. And, the complete opposite of what the children in juvi would do, she began to laugh.

He was taken aback; no child laughed before a fight was up. It was almost a law in there, you never backed down. If you did then you'd end up with road kill taped into your mouth the next morning.

God knows how exactly they got that road kill.

But she laughed anyway, completely letting her guard down. _Fight is-a over?_

He grinned, and then started laughing as well. Just for the fun of it. They never laughed in juvi. Unless a child was in pain or getting beaten up (*coughhimcough*). The only time he ever really laughed was when his father would start laughing over a plan to kill Bart. Or when Francesca was playing with him. Or when he was around Maggie, Izzy and Stephanie. They . . . were his only real friends. Who didn't _use_ him.

And now, laughing with his ex-enemy, Gino realized how lucky he really was here, in this butterfly field.

* * *

Marge hadn't come out of her hut all afternoon. She had sat on the bed, got up, grabbed a mirror and lay back down, staring at her reflection.

_Am I really a horrible person? So horrible as to brake both of my daughter's hearts? To treat my special little guy like he's still four? Maggie like she's still 6 months old? To brake possibly the most important promise in my life?_

Questions swimmed in and out of her head like insects, too fast to be read. She simply sat there, staring at her reflection. Finally, it snapped. She finally realized what had to be done. Marge got up, heading to Mel's hut.

* * *

Mel had never, _ever_ thought that he was ticklish. It simply never happened to him, nobody ever did it to him. If his siblings would ever decide to mess with him, they would shove him in a closet and eat his Halloween candy stash. And his parents were always talking about how 'he'd one day be the greatest sidekick they ever heard of. As for now, eat your stinkin' Lima beans.'

He used to be the greatest male Shakespearean actor there ever was. Dame Judith being the best female. And now . . . Krusty's sidekick. As soon as they got back to the mainland, Mel was going to sue that clown. Possibly along with the Terwilligers. And the Simpsons.

There was a knock from the door, and it opened. "Mel?" Marge was standing there, smiling.

"Yes?" He turned his head.

Her smile disappeared. "Have you been crying?"

"No."

"But your eyes-"

"Allergies."

"But-"

"Allergies."

"Uh . . . uh, anyway, I saw a History episode once, where the natives of an island were victims of voodoo. And this one girl's lover went under a spell, and she danced to appease the gods."

"Hm. Did it work?" A spark of interest. He remembered the parody Krusty made him do of that episode precisely. It did the exact opposite, you could hear a pin drop from that silence in the crowd. The children, and the other sideshows, all had their jaws dropped.

Unconsciously, Mel shuddered, remembering the dance Krusty had him do. No wonder they stood there for about four minutes like zombies.

"Yes. And I was thinking . . ."

"That you can try to do it for Stephanie?"

"Yeah. And I was wondering—if you saw that episode, I know Krusty parodies a lot of educational things—if you could help me with the dress? I'm not sure what the native girl wore."

Mel raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "I think I caught it."

* * *

It was about two or three o'clock now, and they were all gathered around Stephanie. Gino was sitting on a chair on top of the table, a giant drum pulled up between his legs.

The rest made a circle around Steph and the table, making a little space for Marge to enter. The drumbeat started, and Marge came out of the supply hut. She was dressed as one of the natives, matching them almost perfectly. Her hair was down, swinging in the breeze against her shoulders. She began to dance to the beat, doing what felt natural. Maggie, Gino, and Izzy watched with anticipation and interest, Cecil and Mel watched with _interest_ interest.

Clouds rolled in, and thunder rumbled. Marge gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh! No, no Gino! Stop!"

Everyone crowded together.

"I did the wrong dance! This was the Rain Dance of the Ranga-Rangas! And you were playing the wrong beat!"

"Well. There's only one thing to say to that then," Mel said, "D'oh!"

They all ran inside just as the rain started pouring. Poor Stephanie was stuck outside.

* * *

Gino went outside, despite it pouring. He got on the table and draped a shower curtain over Stephanie so she wouldn't get any wetter, and went into the protection of the think foliage of the palm trees. He arrived at the cave in no time, and immediately felt unwelcomed. It radiated off the cave, like the witchdoctor was right there with him.

Gino had brought a flashlight, and clicked it on. He was going to find the witchdoctor. If not to kill, then to hex.

_Nessundo, nessundo assalutamenta, passici con Gino Roberto Alwardo Terwilliger!*_

He flicked on the flashlight, scanning the cave for the witchdoctor. Something glinted in the light, catching his eye.

_My knife! _

He ran over. It was sitting on a small ledge with other items and several dolls. "My knife! And Maggie's pacifier . . . and Isabella's hat, and Mel's bone chip, and Stephanie's head band." Gino went on; grabbing each item and the doll it belonged to into his small arms. The rain had stopped, and he ran to the clearing dry. "Our things! Our things!" He cried. "Stephanie is-a saved!"

"What?" Mel was first out of the hut, "Give me that."

They all came out, watching with anxiety. Marge with the most.

He put the head band on Stephanie after taking off the shower curtain. "-Again that voodoo isn't real. When are you ever gonna be—how did I get wet?" She finally finished her sentence.

Marge went up and hugged her while everybody else laughed with relief. Steph gave the "what-the-heck?" look while they all crowded around her.

Maggie grinned and handed her beloved pacifier to Izzy. She got on the table and cleared her throat. Everyone looked at her. She drew in a deep breath, "So if you care to find meeeEEE

"Look to the western sky-ee-y!

"As someone told me lately: "Ev'ryone deserves the chance to FLY!"

"And if I'm flying solo

"At least I'm flying free

"To those who'd ground me

"Take a message back from meeeeee

"Tell them how Iiiiiii am Defyyyyying gravity

"I'm flying high DEFYING gravity

"And soon I'll match them in renown

"And nobody in all of Oz," She looked directly at Marge.

"No Wizard that there iiiiis or waaas

"Is ever gonna bring meeeeEEEEEEe dooooooooown!"

Stephanie sung, "I hope you're happy!"

Maggie ended with a big, "OhhhwhoaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Stephanie grinned and picked her up."Finally, something _cool_ from one of my little sisters! We did something right for once!"

Marge exclaimed, "She said 'mommy!'"

* * *

"What are you doing Gino?" Gino was sitting on a log next to the lagoon; Cecil was passing by with firewood.

"Making a voodoo doll of the witchdoctor," He finished whittling the doll and showed his uncle the masterpiece. "I have-a found a shark's tooth in the cave near several footprints, so I figured this was his."

He smirked, "Gino, you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it takes years of practice for those witchdoctors to work voodoo! You think you can just do that out of what Mel told you? Impossible. Besides, the witchdoctor probably has some sort of a protection spell on him for things like that. I don't know, if voodoo exists, then that has to."

"Oh. Well, it makes me feel better to know I have the life of one of my enemies in my hands. Even if I do not, I still want to pretend." He stabbed the doll in the butt with a needle.

Then, coming out of the forest, the witchdoctor came howling and gripping his butt. He ran into the lagoon as the two watched, and swam out of sight.

* * *

**And who _couldn't_ see Maggie's first words coming? She couldn't do Rattle for very long on that island! And I guess Herald Hecuba's up next!**

***- Nobody, absolutely nobody, messes with Gino Roberto Alwardo Terwilliger! **


	5. 1 The Producer

**Sorry, but I feel the urge to do this with each episode, reading it brings on my Gilligan. **

**When a Broadway producer crash-lands on the island, the castaways ham it up in a musical version of Hamlet (it's alright if you don't need to, but you may want to look up 'Gilligan's Hamlet' to know the tunes.)**

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

"Hey! Someone's here! A plane!" I didn't care what I looked like, but if a plane's here, than I want to make as much noise as possible. I don't want to end up a zombie again, or have to go through any more island drama.

We finally found out what's been bothering Isabella. Cecil told us all at the dinner table when it was her turn to do the dishes—that Len, her dad, _beat_ her and her mother. I started to look at her mother's homicide a different way; who wouldn't want to kill a guy like that?

I'm also pretty certain that Maggie and Gino are going to end up together. Sometime from when I was a zombie, that wall between friendship and girlfriend/boyfriend broke. But hey. I support it.

It's the parents and Bart I'm worried about.

I ran into Cecil. "Hey, have you seen the-"

"Yes, and you might as well stop worrying about it," he said this with frustration.

"What? Why?"

"He's crashing." We both looked at the plane. Well, it was circling us before, but now it was getting lower and lower just past the lagoon.

I groaned. "Joy. He or she will have to build his own hut; I'm not helping unless he has money." But as I said that, an orange raft came from the sea, following the lagoon's water line to us.

As he got out of the raft, he smiled at a tree and said, "Hi, I'm Troy McClure. You may remember me from such films as, 'Help! The Island's Exploding!' and 'The Rain Dance of Ranga-Ranga.'" He then turned to us and said, "Hi, I'm Troy McClure. You may remember me from such films as 'I'm Drowning!' and-"

"Yes yes, we've got it," Cecil and I helped him out of the raft, "how on earth did you find us?"

"Find you? Sir, I've been flying this plane for seven hours in search of land. When I saw this dreary island I immediately went for another, but the gas was on zero so I crash-landed here. Any questions?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, "You're a big ex-movie star, aren't you? Like, when my aunt divorced you, you went back to being a nobody?"

"Producer now, baby. I finally fired my agent, moved someplace where nobody's heard of my fish inci—I mean, my _big fall_, and worked my way to the top from there. Wait—you're that Simpson girl! The oldest! Hey babe, I remember your family. Do me a favor," he got the same look Sideshow Bob did when he was getting all dark, "tell your father I remember him. And what he did to me."

"Yeah, whatever. I mean, will somebody come looking for you?" I hated being called 'babe.' And being remembered by the title 'Oldest.' But now's my chance to get on his good side, and then get my ticket to B'Way, and _outta_ the Simpson family.

He looked a little uneasy. "I certainly hope not, but there may . . . possibly be some men here," he then turned away, thinking that we couldn't hear him, "shouldn't have gone to the meercat exhibit. Damn cops show everywhere." He turned back to us and smiled. "Yeah, there should be some men here. And then they'll most likely drown, leaving us with their planes or boats."

I shuddered, remembering when Aunt Selma married this creep. _Good side Broadway good side Broadway . . . ._

We helped him with his bags. I grabbed a particularly heavy one, grunting as I dragged it across the sand. When they were both ahead of me, I checked what was inside it.

And then feared this ex-uncle like never before. There were firearms inside that bag, Cherry bombs, M-80s, and several guns. But I was kind of used to that stuff by now, what got really me going was a dead, stuffed flounder. Not the toy. I quickly closed it and started dragging the bag into _my_ hut.

"Stephanie?" Cecil called. They both looked at me.

_Caught. "_Which hut's he staying in?"

"Not yours."

Troy took the bag from me, gave me a glare, and turned back. I went into the woods, planning to find the others.

* * *

Cecil dropped Troy's stuff onto the table, watching him. He was looking around, shaking his head and smoking a cigar. "Oy. If _I_ were to get deserted on a crappy island like this . . ."

Gino came running up. "You sir! Uncle! Do we have a boat?"

Cecil explained the situation to him.

"Oh. How long will it take for the men to get here?"

"Ah, don't trouble your young mind with those worries. What's your name?" Troy bent down, shaking Gino's hand with his free arm.

"Gino, sir."

"Nice. Gino, go down and get the rest of my luggage. Please."

He frowned. "No tip?"

"_Tip_? Tip? Put it on my tab." He took the cigar out of his mouth. "What's one more than one?"

"Two." Gino held up two fingers.

"Good boy," He put the cigar in-between the fingers, and turned back to Cecil. "What? We're standing? Move it! Move it!"

He sneered. "Right this way," he ushered the producer to Mel's hut, and muttered under his breath, "your _highness_."

Gino looked at the cigar in his hands, shrugged, and tossed it behind him. He went to the beach anyway, figuring this would be his only chance to go through a producer's stuff.

* * *

"-And he's supposed to get us off the island!" Cecil finished.

Mel glared back over his shoulder at the "old friend." He had met Troy through one of Krusty's parties, and didn't like him at all. First off, he had crashed the party. Second, he had done nothing but point out people's flaws. One of Mel's being 'didn't watch your pocket.' Troy had stolen his ticket from him, and the sideshow had been kicked out just before he got the gift basket.

"I don't care if he saves us all from a volcano, he is _not_ staying in _my_ hut!"

"I wouldn't dream of sharing your little piece of hell." Troy turned around.

"No? Good."

"Nope. You're moving out."

Mel started sputtering, causing a coughing fit. As he was coughing, Troy led both men outside.

"Now if you will, I'm just gonna re-decorate." He grinned, and shut the door.

Mel gritted his teeth, ready to run in there and break Troy's jaw. Cecil held him back. "Remember, Mel! There's supposed to be a rescue mission here to take him home! _Do what he says if you want to be saved!_"

That stopped him.

* * *

"Ladies! Hurry up, I'm famished! It's already been a minute, I even gave you three extra seconds!"

I growled. "For a wash-up, he's certainly acting like a Krusty."

Izzy sighed as well. "You'd think that he thought he's better than us! I know that's what he's thinking, you jerk!" she raised her voice at jerk, trying to make a point.

Mom was the only one who wasn't complaining. "Stephanie, if you want to get on his good side, maybe you should show him some of your skills, and stop yelling insults out the window."

"Izzy's the one who's been yelling the insults. But maybe you're-"

"How many times need I say it? Don't blame the younger kids, Stephanie!"

"But Marge, I was the one who yelled out the window. Not her."

I didn't hear the rest, I was already outside. And didn't give a monkey's butt about what she said about me anymore. Mom was right for once. If I wanted to get on Broadway, I had to show him my skills.

Isabella's mom had a costume trunk somewhere in their hut, if _Marge_ hadn't moved it already.

* * *

"C'mon people, I'm not gonna feed myself here!" Troy complained. Mary and Mario, or whatever their names were, were sitting across from him, glaring. He gave an equal fire back.

He heard singing coming from behind him, and then an old maid yelled into his ear, "What-a do you want from meh, eh? I go as fast as I can, but you don't-a appreciate me, no? I repeat, what do you-a want?" She spoke in a heavy Italian accent.

He looked this old woman up and down disbelieving. She was wearing an old brown dress that was torn and filthy. It looked like something a slave back in the day would wear. "What the hell happened to your dress?"

She looked down at the dress, then back up at him with a fire dancing in her eyes. "This? This is the dress I share with my _four_ _sisters_," she held her hand up, "only one of us can leave the hut at a time!"

"Damn. Remind me to send you a check for a wardrobe."

"Now, what do you-eh want from me? If I care, you might get it."

"I wanted some water. And my-"

"_Water_? You yell at me three-hour straight for _water_?"

"Well, and I wanted my din-"

"Oh, you Americano all same. All you want is food, food FOOD!"

"Alright, alright, just get me some bread."

"BREAD?! And now you want-eh bread!" She waved her hand in front of his face, "Alright, I get you some bread." She walked away, mumbling, "Bread and water. Mama Mia, we children lucky to get time of day when I child!"

The two kids got up, heading for another hut. Troy thought they were stifling laughter. He cocked his head, "I think I saw this in a picture once."

Stephanie came back out a few minutes later, when they were all at the table, singing: "So just goes to show what little people can do. So never kick a dog, because he's just a pup . . ." She sat down beside Troy. "So what did you think about the maid?"

"That act? Miss, you don't seem to get the big picture. I only give _talented_ actors and actresses parts. And you . . ."

Her smile faded. "I can do better! I mean, how picky are you? Those rumors about you and fish must have dropped your number of-"

"You can't get a part in a picture with that kind of acting, darling. Like the man said when he sat on the stove: that's a hot one." He began to laugh.

Everybody stared as she ran off into the forest.

* * *

"_Stephanie!_" Cecil cupped his hands together, "**Stephanie!**"

"Leave me alone."

He followed her voice. She was sitting on the ground, up against a tree. Her head was on her knees.

"Are you alright?"

A pause. "No."

He sat down beside her. "You know, you really are a good actress. This coming from a knighted actress's son."

She looked at him with a blank face. "That coming from a man who came this close to shooting me." She held two fingers about an inch apart.

"You were the one who jumped in front of it . . . . Why _did_ you do that?"

"I was about to die. It kinda seemed like the only choice."

"Oh. Well, that would make sense."

"Look. I can see that you feel really awkward, just send in that woman and you'll be off the hook."

"If I send in that woman you may commit suicide."

"Just because I'm Goth doesn't mean I'm going to-"

"I never said that. I said that after talking to your mother, knowing how frustrating she is, you might want to. I know I usually do."

"Oh. Yeah, she usually has that effect on people."

Silence.

"You shouldn't' take what your hateful ex-uncle said to you personally. He's called me-"

"I know what he's called everyone here. But that doesn't mean none of them are lies."

"You aren't bad! Maggie and Gino thought you were awesome!"

She smiled. "Yeah, and the expression on Troy was priceless." Her smile faded. "But still."

"Oh, stop it! You're-"

"A Goth teenager with family problems! NONE of my life's been normal _because of my family! My insane, weird, loony family!"_ She began to sob into her knees.

Cecil could compare to that. The only friends he ever had were Maris and Marge growing up. Bob was always with Snake, and occasionally Mel. But that all changed when his wife and son were sort of burned alive by a psycho lunatic that's still loose, and then he went to jail for trying to blow up his brother and three of his enemy's kids in a dam.

He hugged Stephanie, tears welling up in _his_ eyes. "Has your family ever forgotten you when they're leaving for school? And then it starts raining, so you have to walk to school in the rain and get a tardy slip when you get there?"

"Yes! Only the bus does, ah-and it's a thunder storm!"

He began to cry as well. "A-and your parents would make you think you were an accident? Not meant to be?"

"Yes! Almost always! And your b-b-brother would hold you down and t-tickle you until you were crying! And he's _younger_ than you?!"

"Mine's older! Your classmates would stuff you into a locker?"

She sniffed. "No, if they did I'd punch them." Then she started crying again. "Grandpa tell you mom and dad weren't married when they had you?"

He stopped momentarily, "No, but they said I had a deranged brother that was murdered." He started again, "And that _he_ named me before I was bo-horn!"

They continued this for well over an hour.

* * *

Cecil stumbled back into the clearing, sobbing. Marge gasped, putting the dishes on the table. "Cecil! Omigod sweetie, what's the matter?!"

He wiped his eyes, trying to stop, "_I have childhood issues!_" He covered his face with his hands, and stopped in front of his hut door and turned around, "_Just like The Phantom of the Opera-ha-haaaaa!_" He went inside, sobbing.

* * *

**The play's the thing . . . in part two!**


	6. 2 The Producer

**Sorry, hard to remember how an episode goes when you haven't watched it in a while. The things I do for you people, making me watch one of my favorite shows ever.**

* * *

"What Troy said to Stephanie devastated her. She's _heartbroken,_ wants to get away from life. That's why she isn't going back with us. When he said that to her, she-"

"We get it, Mel. She's sad."

"Well. It's a lot more than sad when she says that she won't come with us when we get off the island."

Cecil, Mel and Gino were in the supply hut. Gino frowned. "Why wouldn't she come back with us? To the rest of her family? Her siblings will be reunited, her mother and father will be together again . . ." He stopped and looked down.

Cecil placed an arm around his shoulder. "I know. We _all_ miss our homes and friends and family. We're _all_ homesick. We also all miss actual food, I've lost twelve pounds from nothing but seafood and fruits. And wine, I'm pretty sure we all miss wine. And even that strange smell coming from the Nuclear Power Plant, we all miss that smell. And definately meat. Not seafood, _meat_ meat. But this is about Stephanie here." He looked back up at Mel. "What _should_ we do?"

"Well, she tried to show McClure she was a good Broadway actor. Maybe of he hears her singing, she'll get a part!" He gasped and got up, heading for the book selection. "We simply need to find the right play to set to music."

Cecil picked one up. "Pride and Prejuice?"

"That's Marge's. Sherlock Holmes—Hound of the Baskervilles?"

"That's mine," Cecil put it back.

Gino held one up, stifling laughter. "Complete Guide to Wine and Poison? Who brought this?"

Cecil blushed, taking it. "Pft. Not me, must be Isabella's. Oh, look, Carpenter's Manual."

Mel looked at him. "How do we put _that_ to music?"

"Simple. Add a few vacuum cleaners, whistle a few tunes, make a dance with carpets and staples. . . why not?"

"Eh . . ."

Gino picked one up. "Hamlet?"

Mel gasped, taking it into his own hands. "Perfect! Hamlet's a marvelous play!"

Cecil grinned. "We could practice at night so Troy won't know!"

Gino smiled. "Can we use the Butterfly Fields to practice? They would be perfecto for Hamlet at night, the black moths are out."

"Then it is agreed!" Mel said, "We put on Hamlet!"

* * *

**You may want to Google Gilligan Hamlet to know the tunes, or you can imagine your own.**

Marge stepped up to the make-shift stage (bamboo rods and two tables stuck together at the edge of the woods). Behind the trees, everyone got ready. Gino especially.

"Ladies and gentlemen! We introduce unto you a tale of treachery and decision! Love and lust! Death and kings! But enough about me, the play's the thing! Without further ado, we introduce . . . _Hamlet!_"

She plugged the iPod into the iHome, setting the volume onto "Extra-Extra-Extra Loud." The music woke Troy from his sleep.

Gino stepped onto the table. The music calmed down a bit, letting him sing, "I ask to be, or not to be, a rogue or peasant slave is what you see; a boy who loved his mother's knee, and so I ask to be or not to be. So here's my plea, I beg of thee, and say you see a little hope for me. To fight or flee, to fight or flee, I ask myself to be or not to be."

Troy got out of his hut, trying to find out where the music was coming from.

Marge and Isabella (dressed as the king) came out from behind the trees, stepping onstage. "He asks to be, or not to be, a rogue or peasant slave is what to see."

Marge sang, "A boy who loves his mother's knee."

They sang together again, "And so he asks to be or not to be. Here's his plea, we beg of thee. And say we find a little hope for he."

Gino sang, "To fight or flee! To fight or flee!"

They all sang, "To be or nooooot to be!" The music ended.

Troy found the "stage," but stayed in the bushes watching.

The "king and queen" exited the stage. Gino stayed. "Hark! I do believe I hear the fair Ophelia."

Stephanie came in, crossing her arms. She still smiled, looking down on Gino. They looked at each other for a moment, and Gino got a chair. Stephanie laughed as he stood on it.

"My Lord Hamlet is troubled."

"Yea, verily, my heart is heavy. I cannot marry thee, Ophelia. There is nothing left for you, but to get thee to a notary."

"Ah, my poor Hamlet. Ah, my poor Hamlet." She started to sing, "Hamlet, dear, your problem is clear, avenging thy father's death; you seek to harm your uncle and mom, but you're scaring me to death. While I die and sigh and cry, that love is everything; you're content to try to touch, the conscience of a king. Since the day when your dad met his fate, you just brood and you don't touch your food; you hate your ma, mad at my pa, you'll kill the king for some silly thing. So Hamlet. Hamlet, do be a lamlet, let rotten enough alone. From Ophelia no one can steal yea you'll always be my own, leave the gravedigger's scene, if you know what I mean. Danish pastry for two, For me, for you." Her arm swung out on the last note, hitting Gino in the head.

"Ow! Er, in truth Ophelia, you have said a mouthful. And hurt my head with your undying love."

" . . . Oh. Hamlet, I have so much more to offer. But hark! Me thinks me hear the heavy footsteps of my father, Polonius."

"And the laughter of your brother and my friend, Laertes."

"Oh, they must not find us here. But where to hide?"

"Hide anyplace. But don't go near the water."

They ran off stage as Mel pushed Cecil on stage. They started whisper/fighting:

"I am not playing Laertes!"

"You have to if you want Stephanie to come with us!"

"Do you realize how many times I have already been compared to Laertes?!"

"Shut up and say your lines!"

Cecil sighed, making a pouty face. He said through clenched teeth, "_Father_. My ship sails at the tide."

"A mornent, my son, for I have something to tell you."

"But I ask only for my allowance."

"Ah, but I shall give you something far more available: advice."

"Do you know how much wine you can buy in Paris with advice?"

"Paris is a wild and wicked town. And you are but a young and innocent boy."

Cecil grinned. "Ha! Oh, could I tell _you_ a few stories, father dear."

"Heed my words, Laertes, and you'll be safe."

He sighed. "Unless I listen, I won't get my spending money. So I'll listen, I'll listen."

Mel started singing, "Neither a borrower nor a lender be, do not forget: stay out of debt; think twice, and take this good advice from me, guard that old solvency. There's just one other thing you ought to do. To thine own self be true.

The entire group of castaways got on stage and sung:

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be,

"Do not forget: Stay out of debt;

"Think twice, and take this good advice from me,

"Guard that old solvency.

"There's just one other thing you ought to do,

"To thine own self be true."

Troy jumped out of the bushes. "NO! Dear God, NO! WHY are you killing Hamlet, WHY?! Get out of your costumes, we practice tonight!" He walked past them. "Lord, the only good ones were Bone-Head, Ginger-Ale, and the oldest."

Marge whispered, "What?"

"He means," Mel said, "That me, Cecil and Stephanie were the best singers."

Stephanie did a fist pump in the air.

* * *

They were all out of their costumes, in chairs set around the stage. Marge had her hand on the iPod in an instant when Troy came back out.

He came back out in the Hamlet costume. "You people are either gonna do this right or another play altogether. Play the music honey-kins."

Marge growled, but started the music.

He went behind the stage, and jumped out a moment later when it was his cue. He jabbed the words out, like he was fighting and singing at the same time, "I ask to be, or not to be! A rogue or peasant slave as what you see! A boy who loves his mothers' knee! And so I ask to be or not to BE!"

He ran off stage again. Several trees shook as he stumbled back out in Ophelia's costume. It was then the children and Stephanie began to laugh.

"Hamlet dear," He spoke in a girls' voice, "your problem is clear: avenging your father's death. You seek to harm your uncle and ma, but you're scaring me to death. Danish pastry for two, for me, for you!"

He ran back off, and sand debris flew up this time. He stepped back out as Polonius, almost tripping over his own feet. "Whoa, whoa . . . alright, we're good. *ahem* Neither a borrower nor a lender be, do not forget: stay out of debt; think twice, and take this good advice from me, guard that old solvency. There's just one other thing you ought to do. To thine own self be true!"

He ran back off, and this time a tree fell over.

Stephanie leaned over to Mel's side, "Must be a new record for costume changing, four seconds flat."

He grinned, "Must be tiring. Notice how he's tripping every-time he comes back out."

They snickered when Troy came back out as the king, with his crown on backwards and the robes a bit torn. "My dear subjects . . . I . . . am tired…good night." He fell off stage.

* * *

"Lo Zio Cecil! Marge! Everybody!" Gino came running to the table (no longer a stage, though there were now footprints where food went) with a note in his tiny grasp.

Cecil stood. "What, what?" He took the note from him. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

Everyone crowded around.

He sighed and read, "_My Dear Castaways,_

_My plane came early this morning to recue me, and I didn't want to disturb your slumber."_

Everyone groaned.

"_I will send someone for you as soon as be convenient. For me. As for now, try to stay alive so we don't come back to find your horrible remains scattered in pieces. And as for Stephanie-"_

"What?" Stephanie took the letter. "_And as for Stephanie, you are pretty good. A little too good. Other agents would surely outdo me and steal you, and I'll be outta showbiz forever if you get outta my grasp. So hang in there, and keep practicing. Or dumb it down some so people won't fight over you._

_-Troy M.C."_

Cecil put a hand on her shoulder. "If he can't do it, maybe your father or my mother will help."

She read the letter one last time, and shredded it into confetti, throwing the pieces at Marge. She went into her hut.

Isabella was first to speak. "That's showbiz, I guess. At least she learned from this that you literally can't trust any bloodhound in that town. But I wanna know . . . why didn't me or Maggie sing? No offense, but we're the best singers in here and we didn't get any good parts. Up until I mentioned Maggie, I didn't even see her."

They all turned around and looked at Maggie. Mel found a sudden interest in his shoes. Cecil rubbed the back of his neck. Gino walked away.

Marge picked her up. "I don't recall having two tables, either. Where did the second one come from? It's like if we need something, we get it all of a sudden."

"I know, right? It's like an unseen force is controlling our lives on the island. Did you know we had Hamlet costumes before today? Much less a Gino sized costume _and_ a Troy sized?"

"But if there were an unseen force working at our lives, it's incredibly lazy to just give us these things without telling where we got them first."

They all stared at a squirrel-shaped cloud.

"Yep. Pretty lazy, alright . . ."

* * *

**So what? I'm lazy. They don't need to know that.**

**We're actually going to take a break from Gilligan for now, and move onto a Treehouse of Horror . . . Any requests? Something that can be done from the island . . .**


	7. THOH 1- Nightmares

**First out of three. The parody of the parody of Nightmare on Elm. Street (Nightmare on Evergreen Terrance is now just a bunch of nightmares. It already was, but no one said anything about it).**

* * *

Gino and Maggie grinned and skipped as the butterflies increased in number over their heads. When he looked at Maggie, the lilies bloomed, the birds sang, and he no longer wanted to kill the bugs. When he looked at Maggie, the world wasn't so bad anymore. He was happy.

Gino leaned in for the kiss.

She kissed back. Or, he thought she did. He didn't know what a kiss was like yet. The butterflies danced around them a forgotten tango, meant only for the eyes of children to see. They withdrew, the butterflies still dancing around them.

Maggie's hair flew in the breeze they were making. She was still smiling, though Gino got worried.

_Shouldn't-eh butterflies be done already? We had our moment, it is done, why are they still here?_

His smile faded as the butterflies turned blacker than night, engulfing the toddlers in their cocoon. Maggie was still smiling dreamily, as if none of this was happening.

Gino grabbed her hand, trying to run out of the mini-tornado. When he attempted to run, she held him in place. "Maggie?"

Her face twisted into a snarl as her body grew into a giant spider. The ground beneath them broke, and they all fell . . . into a spider's web. Gino shrieked when the butterflies fell as well into the web, some sticking, some melting into it. Maggie started eating the ones that were stuck.

Unreal amounts of blood came out as Maggie bit into the them, some of the droplets landing on Gino.

He screamed again when she started getting closer to him, eating the bugs one-by-one. He got his senses together and untangled himself from the web.

Though easier said than done, he managed to free himself when the spider's back was turned. The ceiling was still open, leading to Gino's freedom and cover. He used the sticky web as a ladder, climbing up.

His foot got caught on a melted butterfly, and a shoe came off when he pulled hard enough.

Maggie looked up. "_No!_" Her voice had changed from a high-pitched tone to a whispered growl.

She grabbed his ankle with her claw, ripping skin and drawing blood. He cried out from the pain, and let go, falling past the spider and ripping the braces on the net. He screamed, falling into complete darkness, away from the light.

Gino screamed again when Stephanie shook him up. "Gino? Kid, you woke us all up. That was a pretty intense nightmare, huh?" She was holding Maggie in her arms, someone Gino really didn't want to see right now.

Everyone else was in the hut, staring at him. Gino realized he was shivering, but not from the chill outside. Marge picked him up in her arms. "Its fine now, sweetie. It was just a—holy mother of Homer, what happened to your ankle?!"

He looked down.

His right ankle had four long, bleeding scratches on it.

_So it WASN'T a nightmare_

Gino shrugged. "I might have lashed out a few times, I guess."

Mel sighed. "Well, it was just a nightmare. Nothing that can physically hurt you at all. Do you want me to wrap those?" he gestured to the wounds.

"No graci."

"Are you sure?"

"Si."

"Alright then. I suggest for now we all go back to bed. I want to wrap those tomorrow at least, in case of an infection." He turned and left.

Isabella gave Gino a reassuring smile, and left with Stephanie. She smiled too. "Try to have better dreams from now on."

* * *

They were all gone except for Marge and Cecil. She smiled. "I guess you may want to be put down now."

"No! Er, I mean—can you stay? For a few minutes?"

Cecil's eyes popped out of his head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. She's tired, and-"

"Why not? You feel too awkward around me?"

He blushed. "I can hold a grudge for an unreasonable amount of time, so yes." The top hammock swayed as he got on. "You can take the bottom one then. It'll be easier getting in and out."

"I don't know if I want to stay for that lon-"

Gino's puppy eyes got the better of her.

"Aw, you _already_ know how to make the puppy face? Alright then." She set him on the ground, balancing herself on the hammock.

Marge held out her arms. Gino let himself be picked up and laid beside her.

_Like momma would do. I miss them._

He snuggled up against her, thankful for the warmth on this chilly night.

* * *

I got back into my room, still holding Maggie. She had fallen asleep on me, something that doesn't happen too often now that she has her BFF and BBFE (from what Azure's told me, "Best Boyfriend Ever"). I laid her down on her side of the bed, and laid on mine.

Our beds sort of look like two palm-leaf couches pushed against each other at a 90 degree angle. One bed is pushed up against a corner of one wall, the other's pushed up against the other corner next to the first one. There's a third bed meant for Izzy across the room, but mom takes it since she sleeps with Cecil.

Though she came back in here with us.

"Did Maggie have any nightmares? Never-mind, she's not screaming or wincing. I'll be with Cecil, if they don't mind."

"Why would they mind?" I tucked the covers up to Maggie's head.

"Because three is already a crowd. I don't want to make it four."

"I'm sure Cecil wouldn't mind his favorite girl spending another night with him." I took a sip of coconut milk (Mel's working on getting us fresh water, it takes a lot of digging and time—I will never drink any kind of milk ever again, after two weeks of it on here).

"But he and Marge are already in bed together."

Once again, I think Izzy's parents did something serious to her. Maybe they fed her coconut milk instead of water or apple juice, or something like that.

I spit-took and burst out laughing. "No! No, my mom's already married! And seriously? Her and _Cecil Terwilliger?_"

"When we left, she was climbing into the bottom bunk."

"Was Cecil in it too?"

"No. He was on the top bunk."

"Well, there ya go. Why don't you three talk it out yourselves?"

"I was, but you wouldn't stop talking." She left as I rolled my eyes.

I crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head, blocking out any light that may have come in from the moon. And, ever so slowly, I drifted off, asleep.

* * *

**(If you've ever watched **_**Once Upon A Time**_**, (**_**ABC**_**) you may want to imagine the forest at the beginning of each episode as the setting in here)**

I was in a forest. Not a jungle—a forest, with huge trees that reached beyond the sky. Or, there was a mist coating blocking off the sky. It looked like night time, though there was still enough light to see what was ahead of me.

And what was ahead of me was sort of creepy.

There was a man about fifty feet away from me, dressed in a headhunter's clothing. Or another witchdoctor. He had on a mask with huge (stupid—even in a dream, I said this out loud) red feathers; the mask looked like one of those really old masks you see on the History Channel.

Or in Oddities.

He was just standing there, looking at me. I had the sudden urge to run from the feeling—like I was trapped. I felt as though someone was behind me too, coming closer with each silent step.

And yet I couldn't turn around. The witchdoctor had me in what felt like a trance. His eyes (the black ones from the mask) were hypnotizing, I didn't—

A twig snapped from behind me. I broke out of the trance and ran like Homer for the last donut. I heard him—it—_them_ coming after me, the wolves coming for a kill (It's my dream, I don't care how descriptive I am, no one's here to make fun of me).

Finally, like in _every_ horror movie, I tripped over a tree root. I squirmed around, wanting to face my attackers and at least put up a fight before waking up.

But nothing was there.

I sat there gasping, looking everywhere. Then I looked up. The mist above me was stirred (someone obviously went through it), and I got up immediately.

The woods were now silent except for the rustle above me; whatever they are were definitely up there in the trees. I raced away from that tree, placing my back against another and listening to them.

They hadn't (that I heard) moved away.

I ran to another tree, going back-to-back on that one too. I ran for another. And another. And another. The sound was now gone entirely; there wasn't another sound in there aside from my beating heart and breathing.

I looked down at the tree I was leaning against. I learned from Lisa and all of those hikes mom and her made us go on that moss always grows on the north side of a tree, and this moss was facing the direction I was about to run anyway. So I sprinted for another tree, this one about four feet from me.

They attacked from above.

The creatures tackled me to the ground as I began screaming at the top of my lungs and as high as my voice would go. One of their mask mouths opened, and it bit me on the wrist. Though this was supposed to be a dream—nightmare now—the pain was excruciating. The other leaned over me, reaching his outstretched arms for my neck—

"_Stephanie! __**Stephanie!**_"

I woke up, still screaming. Mom was shaking me violently. I tore her hands off of me, got up, and squeezed my wrist. In was throbbing and bleeding.

Mel took it as I began to cry.

* * *

"Mel, they _both_ woke up bleeding. There is no possible way _both_ of them could have hurt themselves in their nightmares. The mind refuses to let you hurt yourself like that, it has to be something else-"

"What? What else could it be?"

"Maybe our witchdoctor came back?" Cecil regretted the words as soon as they came out.

"Of course! It has to be! Gino was the one who stuck a needle in his rump and found the dolls! Stephanie was the frozen one! And—dear lord—we were the ones he . . . attacked."

They both shuddered.

"Alright. Alright, say it is him. How did he come back here?"

Mel gave him a look. "How did he—you didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

"With all that screaming and crying? No, I slept like a rock. Best night ever."

"Well, he isn't here in physical form. If he is, then he's hiding in a cave. But he attacked the children in their dreams, yes?"

"You aren't going to tell me he somehow used magic to come here in a spirit form, the most cliché-est horror movie villain plot ever, just to get revenge on the last people who screwed with him are you?"

"Well, I'm not _now_."

He rolled his eyes. "Listen. I'm tired. My nephew refuses to sleep, and he's in what his parents often refer to as "Melt-Down Mode." The same with Stephanie. We have dealt with it all day, and I'm tired. Good night." He raised his hands in defeat and walked out, grabbed a banana, and went to his hammock.

Mel sighed, laying his head in his arms. He was pretty tired too, having dealt with wrapping the wounds, inspecting them, searching for infections, and then applying salt water to help heal. It was only about eleven A.M.

He was exhausted.

_Maybe just rest my eyes for a few minutes. I just need a few minutes._

* * *

Marge sighed with relief when she saw the table and clearing ahead. She had spent a good deal of the morning picking wild-berries in the deeper part of the jungle (where they were untouched by humans) for lunch. She had asked Stephanie if she wanted to go, but had been answered with a hateful glare.

She and Gino had stayed in her hut the entire day. Gino didn't even want to go butterfly hunting with Maggie; he had said she and butterflies had a large part in his nightmare.

Isabella had gone butterfly hunting with Maggie.

Marge sighed again when she set down the berries, sitting down herself. She placed her head in her hands, lying them down on the table.

_So tired . . . that's odd, I'm used to housework and exorcise._

_Poor Gino and Stephanie. He was so scared last night after waking up. _

_That was the first time I saw Steph cry since she was five, when that other kid had stolen her Malibu Stacy doll. _

_Tired . . . ._

Her eyes shut.

* * *

Isabella and Maggie laughed as they ran, the butterflies increasing in number in their nets. Izzy stopped for a moment, taking in a breath. She was getting tired.

The bugs flew out of her net as Maggie approached. "Are you *yawn* OK?"

"Yeah . . . just so tired." She wore a weak grin.

"Same here. Maybe we should be gettin—oooh," They both fell to the ground, asleep.

* * *

Gino and I had stayed in my hut. It wasn't often that I was ever scared, but if I had really been turned into a zombie, and if voodoo exists . . . What I saw was a witchdoctor. Or, two. Two whatever-they-weres.

We had sat down on my bed. He climbed into my lap, lying his head on the crook of my arm. I was used to Maggie (and only when I'm in a good mood), not four-year-olds, sleeping on me. However, he went directly into the description of his dream.

I told him mine.

We laid there, talking about the similarities that came in both our dreams.

"I really don't know _anything_ that happened in both dreams," I said, "I guess we were both in forests when we were attacked."

"I suppose. Maybe it has something to do with our fears? Papa always told me, attack your brother from fear."

"No, that wouldn't work. Bart doesn't scare easily when it comes to your dad. You need to attack him from his weakest point: sacrifice. He used to know this one girl, Mary Spuckler, one of Cletus's children. Ask your dad, he'll know who I'm talking about. Though when we went to New York, she ran away again. Yeah, never-mind. But you might have something on that fear thing."

"Si. It attacked me through Maggie and butterflies. I like her, but I hate butterflies. Something I love and hate."

"Alright. I hate most everything about a jungle at night and being hunted down by weird undead savages . . . I loved nothing about the dream that they used."

"Alright then, nothing you loved. Maybe since you were already turned into a zombie, it…hates…you?"

I gave him a look. "Why? I've already suffered. What _did_ I ever do, I was a _zombie_ the entire time!"

He rolled over. "There is no need to be mean. It was just a suggestion."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I guess." I yawned. "But we need to stay awake. Those things were gonna snap my neck and put it on a ceremonial stick, or whatever they call it."

He laughed, then grew serious. "And Maggie was going to eat me alive, like the butterflies." He yawned.

"Exactly. We need to *yawn* stay awake. We need to have a plan. We need—need sleep." My eyes shut as he began to snore softly.

* * *

The entire island was silent. No birds chirped. No monkeys moved. No wind rustled the palm tree leaves. There were no fish in the lagoon, or ants crawling along the sand. Even the ocean had seemed to lie still, as if in an eternal sleep. As if all of them were.

Mel had fallen off his chair onto the sand, moaning and kicking like a dog would do while dreaming.

Cecil was swiping his hands, as if to ward off a fly. Or something else. His nose was bleeding, bruises forming quickly on his arms.

Marge, like Mel, had fallen off of her chair. She was shaking her head, whimpering and raking sand into small piles with her fingernails.

Isabella and Maggie had fallen on top of each other, both deathly still and pale.

Stephanie and Gino were still in each other's embrace, clutching each other now. Gino had tears running down his face. Stephanie held him tighter still.

There was no life on the island anymore, aside from the vegetation. Everything and one was sleeping now, covering the island in a blanket of hush.

* * *

Mel was still on the island. Sort of. He was tied upside down from an oak tree, his arms behind his back. He was kicking the air as creatures, much like those from Stephanie's dream, asked him questions in tongue he did not understand. When they were answered by "gibberish," they poked his belly, swaying him back and forth on the string. He yelled out in anguish as the one with long fingernails pushed him away with its thumb.

Cecil was running through the island's forest. He kept swatting the mosquitoes away, desperately trying to kill before they bit him. As a child, Cecil had already been fragile, and had too many allergies. However, mosquitoes were his worst enemy. That's one reason why they had moved away from London in the first place, though Springfield wasn't much better at all. Already, his nose had started to bleed from the allergens, and he had forming bruises on his arms from the fragility the bites were causing him and the forests' low tree branches.

Marge's worst nightmare had come true. She wasn't anywhere. Just in a glass box. There was no room outside. No wide-range land. Just whiteness, _pure_ white. Inside the box was three-feet deep dust-bunnies, of which she desperately tried to shy away from, digging herself a "clean" tunnel. Her OCD self made her do so. The dust caught up to her nails, resting inside them. Marge started screaming, though no sound came out.

Isabella and Maggie weren't anywhere in the dream-world. It was simple. They would wake up with no recollection of their absence from this world or the unconscious nightmares because they no longer existed. Their souls, bodies, all gone. Nothing remained of them because nothing left was in existence. They were nowhere, yet everywhere. Even if somebody had found the butterfly field, they would not see the bodies of the two girls. They would perhaps see dents in the grass from where two objects that now cease to exist were. But no more.

Stephanie and Gino were outside a prison cell. This was possibly the best yet worst fate they could have; Sideshow Bob was in there, laughing. Everything was too normal however, despite the jail setting. Almost like this was real. Francesca was in there too, lying on her side. She sighed. "_Will you shut-a up?! I am-uh tryin' to read!_" Her Italian accent was strong in her scream. Even Stephanie winced from her.

Bob settled his manic laughter to a crazed giggle.

She clenched her teeth and fists, setting down the novel. "_I. Said. Shut. Up_."

Stephanie looked away. She couldn't speak, she tried, and instead grabbed Gino's arm as his parents started fighting-fighting. Gino was silently bawling, no sound protruding from either one of them. Not even footsteps.

Like ghosts. They were like ghosts.

No one even saw them as guards raced past to the jail cell. Gino cried harder when he saw one of them holding a taser. He was tough. He had been his entire life, inheriting it from both sides of the family. But having been departed from your family for two and a half weeks made you miss them dearly, and you imagine your reunion to be a little happier than seeing both of your parents in jail fighting violently.

Stephanie, on the other hand, wanted out. She knew what was going on. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter, she was killing this thing from the heart.

Out the door they went, into the blinding sun.

* * *

I shut my eyes as something other than the sun blinded my view. I covered Gino, who was currently bawling in the silence we came here in.

The wave of light passed, and I opened my eyes. We were in the Springfield Elementary School's playground. I tried to talk, since I could now hear Gino bawling.

It worked. "Gino? You still with me?"

He wiped his eyes, sniffing. "We need to come back! They tried to kill Bart again!"

"It's alright. We can worry about that later, OK? Because right now I think we're about to die, unless we kill this thing first."

He nodded, getting it together.

I felt really bad for him, I did, but we were probably going to die. I hoped not, because I got a plan when I saw the sandbox, grass clippings, and garden hose. I grinned.

As soon as we were done, you couldn't see the sandbox anymore. It was completely covered by the grass, and was currently drenched by a butt load of water.

The thing came out from behind the hedge, once again a Maggie-spider. Gino cried out, taken by surprise. I hoped not fear.

I got behind the sandbox, picking up Gino. The spider stood still, staring at me. I made sure not to look in its eyes this time. Finally, it roared and ran/crawled to us.

I started running as well, looking ahead. I stopped at the chained fence as the spider-thingie began to sink into the quicksand. It screamed and lashed out at us, the legs stretching just a few inches short in front of our faces. It then changed forms—into our be-hated witch doctor.

Gino gritted his teeth, watching with a sort of satisfaction as he sank deeper and deeper into the mud, until eventually his hand was the only thing showing. It made a thumbs-up as it sank as well.

* * *

...

They all woke up at the same time. All except for Maggie and Izzy, who were back in existence, running home. Keyword there is "home."

Mel gasped and sat up, his eyes wide open. They were filled with tears as he staggered outside, whimpering.

Cecil fell out of his hammock, already having tears running down his face. He ran out to the clearing.

Marge didn't waste a moment; she started frantically picking sand out from under her fingernails.

Stephanie and Gino both got up, laughing and crying at the same time.

Everyone went around, hugging and reassuring each other that it was over.

It was over now.

_Over now . . ._

Sideshow Bob woke up, a gasp on his lips. He put his fist in his mouth, rolling over on the bed. Francesca woke up.

"Another bad-a dream, Roberto?"

"Si, yes. Horrific nightmare. It…was about the others again."

She sat up. "Cletus and his cousins? Did they at least have their coveralls on this time?"

"No, no! Gino and the others."

She drew in a shaky breath. "Roberto. We agreed on this. _You are not to talk about them until they come back._"

"I know, I know. I won't. Let us try to back into the sweet embrace of a welcoming sleep, shall we?"

She sighed but took his advice, shutting her eyes.

* * *

Kang and Kodos laughed from space.

"Puny earthlings!" Kang said, "They suffer from dreams which are bad while we are watching their every move, taking over by these "bad influences."

"Watching their every move."

"Like that squirrel-shaped cloud that always appears in the background of each chapter of their lives."

Kodos pressed a red button, revealing me—er, the cloud, in the monitor.

The narrator pressed a button as well, turning the computer screen—yours and theirs—to grey fizz.

* * *

...

**You read NOTHING! You saw NOTHING!**

**Next chapter won't be as dark, I promise. I must admit, while readng back over this, this was very different from what I usually write. I kind of like it, but I'll save the horror for FictionPress. Next chapter . . . will come soon.**


	8. THOH 2 - Phantom of the Island 1

**First part of the second story out of a possible three. This one isn't as dark as the last, I promise. ;)**

**Although I'm listening to **_**Avenue Q**_** right now, and this is a musical episode. Just to warn you.**

* * *

"So why shouldn't we?" I crossed my arms, grinning the way Bart does when he knows he's winning.

"Because you're perfect the way you are. There's no need to show off, unless we get to too." Mel crossed his arms. The other castaways followed the lead, aside from the children behind me.

I shrugged. "Alright. If we can _all_ sing our favorite songs, _onstage_, I'll get outta your hair."

Cecil smirked. "What shall our stage be? Two tables, just like last time?"

"Yes."

_Hm. Mental note: bluntness wipes the grin off everybody_.

"Then it is agreed!" Mel cried, "We put Broadway on the island!"

We all cheered.

Alright, alright. I started a little late there.

My iPod died out on me, and I asked Mel if he could find a way to charge it. Heh, well, I don't know how, but we started fighting about putting on a musical. With me as the star (I hardly get any alone time to sing out here. And when I sing, somebody's always there to smirk at me _because I'm not actually TRYING to sing_, and I sound pretty off key*).

But anyway.

The others gathered around each team, the children on my side because I sang to them before. You know the rest.

Now to the "production." Each of us chose our songs:

Mom chose _(They Long To Be) Close to You_, since it was her and dad's wedding song, and something she re-wrote from _Avenue Q_.

Cecil chose something from _Spamalot_, and I made him do _What Do You Do With a B.A. in English? _From _Avenue Q_, since it was our opening song (also _It Sucks To Be Me_). He also chose _Mr. Cellophane _from_ Chicago. _

Sometimes I feel sorry for him, and then I imagine his mouth opening and some sarcastic flip coming out of it. I also still hold a grudge against him for almost shooting me.

Mel chose _Send in the Clowns_, a personal and sentimental favorite. He also chose _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables _from_ Les Mis._

Gino chose _Not While I'm Around (Sweeney Todd)_ and _Little People (Les Mis)_. I forgive him for trying to kill me, since he's only three. Or four. And with Bob being his father, I forgive him for the household he was raised in.

Maggie chose _Defying Gravity (Wicked)_ and _Castle on a Cloud_ (_Les Mis_—we were _all_ getting into the Broadway spirit).

Isabella chose _On My Own (Les Miserab_—she looks a lot like Eponime too. Same dress, hat, everything except for the hair color), and _No One Knows/Good N' Evil _from_ Jekyll and Hyde_.

Alright. Long list, huh? Well, one more. Since all of the good songs are taken, I'm doing something a bit different. Idina's re-write of _Defying Gravity_. _Dancing Through Life_. And _All That Jazz, _from_ Chicago_.

And that was our list. We started off practicing that night, next day, and started the "concert" around six.

Cecil cleared his throat, adjusting his shirt collar. "_What do you do, with a B.A. in English?_

"_What is my life going to be?_

"_Four years of college and plenty of knowledge,_

"_Have earned me this useless degree."_

We all warmed up with that opening, and started from youngest to oldest. Maggie had practiced her voice a lot, and had gotten much better. Everyone awed at her version of _Castle_. Next was Gino, who also rocked. Like father like son, perfectly. I especially liked _Not While I'm Around_, he fit that role perfectly. Though Isabella had an incredible voice, she looked weird during her three songs. A little sad at parts, but during Good N' Evil she seemed pretty content. And wouldn't stop staring and grinning wickedly at Cecil.

Cecil sounded as good as his brother, if not a little better. He sung _You Won't Succeed, _which was hilarious. Especially when Mel got up with him to do that bottle dance after the piano scene (**though the song itself is weird, it's Monty Python. But the piano scene is HILARIOUS).** We all laughed, and though it was mellowed down by _Cellophane_, his ending was great.

He started up a conversation with Mel, turning into a fight.

"Well fine then! If you don't need me I'll be on my way," He raised his nose into the air, crossed his arms, and turned to leave, "Mystro: my off-stage song?"

Mel silently left, like he hadn't spoken at all.

Cecil looked at all of us. He shrugged, smiled and nodded, "Alright then."

We all awed and clapped him off.

Mom was up next. She had a guitar, where she got it, I don't know. "Alright then. This is a song I re-wrote from the play Avenue Q. I think you'll recognize the tune. *Ahem*

"_The internet is really really great."_

Cecil grinned coughed, "cough-for-Yahoooooo!-cough."

Mom smiled at him. "Yeah, that would be a search engine on the internet. _I have a connection so fast I do not have to wait."_

"Not the Yahoo I was talking about."

"Huh? _There's always some new site-"_

"_For a BING."_

"_-to browse through day and night-"_

"_To Excite."_

"Cecil?!"

"The internet is for Yummly!"

"_What the_- this is a re-write!"

"The internet is for Yummly!"

"What are you doing?!"

"Why do you think the net is hot? HotPot, HotPot, HotPots!"

"_Cecil!" _Mom used her mom-tone that time.

He grinned and waved, saying this flirtatiously, "Hi Marge!"

I giggled.

"This is _my_ solo! Not the real song! You're ruining it!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Please, continue."

That got most of us giggling.

"Good_. I'm glad we have this new technology_."

"Foooor Info!"

"_Which gives us untold opportunity!_"

"For—ooh. Lemme think about another site here."

_Now_ she was glaring at _us_ because we were laughing. "_From your own desktop-_"

"For-"

"_You_ _can research browse and shop."_

"Uh-" He grimaced.

"_Until you are ready to stop._"

I whispered something to Cecil.

"I PEEK You!" He stood up, throwing his hand up.

I couldn't stop laughing now. Neither could anybody else, including Cecil. He sat back down, chuckling.

Mom raised an eye. "I'm glad you crack yourself up."

"_The internet is for *Yippy!*" _He jumped in his seat every time he said "Yippy," like dad would, making our laughter increase in volume.

"WRONG!"

"The internet is for *Yippy!*"

"Stop it!"

"You can keep me up day and night for Pixsta, Pixsta, Pixsta!"

"_Cecil!_" Mom raised her voice again, "That is _disgusting_! Especially in front of the _children_!"

"Why and how is it disgusting? I'm just teaching them the internet websites."

"You know that's not it –you're a sick, _sick_ man!"

He shrugged. "Sticks and stones, Marge dear."

"No, really! I didn't even know they allowed the internet in prison! And _normal_ people don't just sit there . . . looking up those things!"

"Oh really? We're not allowed to go to internet websites anymore?"

"No—I mean, yes, but—you know what I'm talking about! Normal people don't spend that much time on the internet anyway!"

"Ha! Yeah? Ready, normal people?"

He, along with everybody else including me (I know he's just doing that to get on her nerves, not what she really thinks. Besides—I love Avenue Q) stood up and sung, "Ready!"

"Ready!"

"Ready!"

"Ready!"

"Ready!"

We all sung, "The internet is an Amazon!"

"Sorry mom!" I said.

"The internet is an Amazon!"

"You may want a balm." (**soothing thingie)**

"All these kids click away on the web, web, web!"

"You sick little-" She ruined everything by jumping offstage and strangling Cecil like dad does Bart.

* * *

Alright. Somehow, we got her off of him.

Mel was second last. He got a little emotional while singing Send in the Clowns, though that was cured after Maggie pecked him on the cheek.

"Got a sweet girlfriend there, Mel!" Cecil mocked.

"You'd better take care of my sister or you'll have me to deal with!"

Gino stomped up there, crossing his arms. "She was _my_ friend first!" We all "ooh-ed."

Maggie hopped off of Mel's lap. "It's OK, Gino. You're my friend too," And she kissed him on the cheek.

We all "Ew-ed!".

He decided not to do Empty Chairs, letting me get an early start.

So I was last. First off was Dancing Through Life, something Maggie and I did together. I'm pretty sure everybody was impressed, and only more so through All That Jazz. Only on some lines, mom seemed pretty mad. By the end of the song though, I think she was cool with it.

And then Defying Gravity. _I'm_ even proud of myself for that performance. Gino even threw a rose. Heh, I picked it up and announced, "I deserve this," and swaggered offstage like a real diva.

Everybody cracked up, even mom.

We all congratulated each other on our performances, and I got several "I'm so happy you convinced us to do this" sayings. Not exactly in that phrase of words, but you could tell what they were saying in-between the lines. After the "after party" (all of us sitting around talking and eating the coconut-cream pie Mom and Izzy baked), I went onto the woods, finding a small stream. Gino followed me partway, handing me a tropical blossom. I didn't even know what it was, but I said thank you anyway and placed it in my hair.

I arrived at the stream, sat down on a fallen tree, and stared at my reflection. Just relaxing, you know? And then I hear a voice from the trees:

"_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Such a fool, this brave young child! Sharing in your triumph!" _It was a boy, about my age.

I jumped up, looking around. "What the—who are you?! Where did you come from? Show yourself!"

I could hear him sighing. "No! You sing lyrics! Then I show myself and floaty-device!"

I looked around again. "Um. I'm not really a good Christine—"

"SING!" He boomed, making me jump.

I'll try, I guess. Whatever he wants, I do it so long as he has a boat. "Uh. _Stranger, I hear you speak - I listen. Stay by my side, rescue us. Angel my voice was weak, forgive me. Show yourself, you ape-kid."_

He landed behind me, I heard it. "_Flattering child you shall know me, see why in trees I hide. Look at your face in the river—I am there, above!"_

I swerved around, matching his eyes in the reflection. He had on a hula skirt, and nothing else. Alright, he also had a native mask on, covering part of his face. His hair was a dirty blond, literally in both ways—it was messy and extremely dirty. I changed my opinion of his age—at least fifteen, sixteen.

He jumped down from the tree branch, grabbing my hand. He led me deeper into the forest. "I lead. You follow and sing."

"What? Can you possibly use better grammar-"

"_SING! Sing next song in play!_"

I jumped again. I wasn't really into Phantom, though I did like some of the songs. But if this guy kept me going, I would run out of lyrics. However, I started singing in the best Christine voice I knew:

"_From above, he sang to me. On this island, he came. That voice which called to me, and somehow knew my name. And should I follow him? For now I find, the ape-boy is here, guiding me."_

He continued leading me, and I thought I knew where we were going._ "Sing once again with me that strange duet. My power over you will grow stronger yet!"_

"Wait, what?" I turned around, trying to slip out of his grasp.

"Shut up! _And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Island is there, inside your mind!"_

"Dude, you're freaking me out now."

"SING!"

I sneered at him. "_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear, so you have that mask you wear-"_

"_It's obviously YOU they all hear."_

We started singing together, me sneering and trying to slip out of his grasp all the way into the cave he was leading me through, "_And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Island is here inside my mind (inside your mind.)"_

He led me to a huge cavern, where a canoe was sitting. He dragged me inside, and I got the idea that somebody would somehow hear me under here.

"_Beware! The Phantom of the Island!"_

"_Yes! SING, my angel of music!"_

"What's wrong with you?! Did you hear my part of the concert or—ohhhh _CRAP_."

"SING! You ANGEL!"

I more or less started screaming in song form, trying to make myself audible from the other side of the island. Before the last note I turned to him and said, "I can't sing that high."

"How high you go?"

"As high as that last note I-"

He stomped on my foot, and the highest note I will _ever_ make came out of my mouth. We arrived on the other side of the cavern, where what looked like a native hut exploded in there.

"Good girl. High note, good opera singer. _Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation-"_

"No! No more singing! What's even wrong with you, and where's your-" I slipped on the wet floor, falling and knocking myself out.

_Crap_._ Again._

* * *

***- Does this happen to anybody? You're just singing along to something, not trying to sound absolutely perfect, and that's the first impression everybody gets of your singing voice. It happened with my family and I, and now they ALL make fun of me. XP**


	9. Phantom of the Island 2

I woke up, hearing something on the piano. "_I remember, in a dream—still in a cavern. On a bed. With a stuffed monkey over my head_."

I got up, following the music. The kid was playing.

_Crap. It wasn't a dream. _

"_Who is that face in the shadows? What are you hiding behind that mask?" _

In the back of my mind, I heard a voice telling me not to. But I took off the kid's mask anyway.

He screeched, pushing me away and covering his face. "_Why the hell would you do that?!_"

"Why the hell did you push me?!"

"_You little demon—is this what you wanted to see?" _He turned around, facing a mirror. The guy took his hand away from his face, revealing . . .

"I _can't_ see it! Your shadow's blocking the whole view!"

"Give me mask back!"

I tossed it back to him, his face still hidden. He sighed, "You go back. They wonder where you are."

"Probably not," In times like this, I really missed the rest of my family. Dad would've used his brute strength to kick this guy's jungle worms, Bart would have found _someway_ outta here through humiliation to the jungle guy, and Lisa would've out-smarted him some way.

"What is your name anyway?"

"I Eric. You Stephanie. Eric watch castaways for many weeks now."

I began to shake my head. "Stephanie no understand what Eric says. Stephanie think Eric is a creeper for watching us. Stephanie wonder how many time your parents dropped you _on your head!_" That last part echoed.

I mean, c'mon. Eric? Creepy obsession with Phantom of the Opera? How did he even _know_ what Broadway was?

He scoffed. "Eric been here since before Stephanie come. Eric watched as before castaways live and died."

I shook my head. "What?"

He sighed. "I been here since before you. I been here since before little girl and her family come to this island. Eric learned about Phantom from little girl."

"You mean Izzy? _Isabella_ showed you Phantom of the Opera?"

"Mother and Father sung whole score to her. I in a tree when she did. Your voice better than everybody else's. Now come. Your after castaways will wonder where you are."

* * *

Izzy laughed, her grey eyes twinkling. Cecil grinned. "Try and steal MY spotlight, will you?"

They were in his hut; he was holding Izzy as high as his arms reached above him. Now he dropped them, along with her, to his chest and kissed her cheek.

Never before has he trusted someone so fast, even a child. Trust issues, mainly after the fire, Tom Vinne, all of that dirty business. But Isabella. She was the only exception. She was his star.

She giggled again. "I'm a better soprano."

"Well duh, you're a _girl_. Puh," He rolled his eyes jokingly. "That's like saying you can't sing as low as me because I'm a boy. Er, man."

"Are you sure? You'll need more proof than that to confirm the belief."

He hit his head with his palm, laughing. "You're worse than my brother!"

"I'd like to meet a man who has something in common with me!"

"And everybody on this island isn't good enough for you?"

"_Nothing's_ good enough for me!"

"Got that right!"

"I can take over the world with a little girl power!"

Cecil put his arm over his face, laughing. He looked back up at Izzy and announced, "Oh no you di-in't, girlfriend!" He snapped his fingers and fell back, laughing even harder. Isabella did as well, both of them a giggling mess.

Mel walked in on them, holding a note. "_Damnable! Is this man truly serious?! This is damnable!_"

"Mel, please don't shout! What's your problem?"

"Have any of you seen Stephanie?"

They looked at each other. Cecil shook his head, "No, I don't believe so."

"Mm. Gino said she went into the forest about an hour ago. I was worried, since it's dangerous to stay in there after night. Then we got this," he handed the note to Cecil.

He opened the note. "It's a letter?"

"Just read."

"_Dear castaways what a charming gala,_

"_Stephanie was in a world sublime,_

"_Our heads were already hung when Isabella sung—"_

"_WHAT?!"_ She yelled.

"_On that note, the kid is a disaster must she sing when she doesn't even have a voice?!"_

"_AHH!"_ She growled.

"And here is yours," Mel plucked a letter off of the floor, reading it, "_Dear Cecil just a brief reminder,_

"_You should really work on the voice—"_

"_EXCUSE ME?!" _He gasped.

"—_Sure, it is good, but try more vibrato—you should!_

"_P.T.I—no one likes a horrible singer, so that practice would indeed be best!"_

They all glared at each other, and sung, "_Who would have the gall to send this?!"_

Izzy sung, "_Someone with a puerile brain!_"

Cecil looked at the notes, "_These are both signed I.G."_

"_Who the hell is he?"_ Mel sung.

They both looked at each other, "_Island Ghost?"_

Isabella shrugged. "We _are_ singing the songs."

They all nodded, agreeing, "_Island Ghost."_

Izzy crumpled up and threw Mel's note on the ground, "I'm not _that_ horrible! Probably better than him." She crossed her arms.

The rest of the castaways entered, led by Marge. "_Where is he?!"_

"You got one too, huh?" Cecil got up.

"That I.G. fellow! Where is he?!"

Gino spoke up, "What is going on?"

Marge spun, a letter in hand, "I have his letter!" She gave it to Cecil, "A letter which I rather resent."

He opened it, "_You, of all the castaways, are the worst singer of them all. Aside from the little girl, of course—"_

"Me?!" Maggie cried.

"Me," Izzy corrected.

"—_For her, we have no remorse. Stephanie Simpson, instead, shall take her place in your next production of music."_

Cecil and Mel looked at each other. "_For too many notes for our taste!_

"_And all of them about Stephanie!_

"_All we've heard since the play, is Stephanie's name!"_

"Oh, she's in her hut," Maggie jabbed her thumb in the direction.

"Really? Since when?!" Cecil stood.

"I hope she realizes how many questions we have!" Mel started to walk out.

"_I thought it best she was alone. She needed rest._"

Isabella took her shoulders, "_Will she sing?! Will she sing?!"_

"She told me to give one of you this," She held up a note.

Everybody groaned as Mel took it. "Where the hell did he get all of this paper? _We_ don't even have any!" He sighed. "*ahem* _I want Stephanie to sing in your next concert or suffer my jungle-MAN wrath."_

"Why," Izzy asked, "would we follow orders from some guy who would emphasize 'man' in his creepy-Stephanie-stalker note?"

"Mmmm. I don't feel comfortable with somebody as obsessed with my daughter as The Phantom was with Christine. That last concert was a mistake, I can feel it. Stephanie doesn't need to have a stalker on her shoulders with what we've already been through on this island."

"As much as I agree, we need to speak with Stephanie about this. If someone else is on the island, he had to have come here with a boat. If we can somehow speak to him, we can find out where it is. Now, if Maggie can let me through, I'd very much like to speak to her."

She stepped aside without a word.

"I'm going too," Marge said, "Stephanie may need a mother's note. Er, no note pun intended." She followed him out.

Isabella crossed her arms. "I can get that he likes her voice, so do I. But he doesn't have to insult the rest of us."

Cecil smirked. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we love your voice."

"We needja' too!" Maggie hung her arm around her shoulder.

She took it off, regaining her crossed-arm posture, "_Wouldn't you rather have your precious little Stephanie?_"

Everybody looked at each other. "_Isabella, no. The world wants . . . you._"

Maggie stopped singing, letting the men have their spotlight, "_Isabella, the world is at your feet—"_

"_An island waits," _Gino sung.

"_And how you'd hate, to let your singing fate, surpass you," _Cecil lifted her up.

"_Can you deny us the triumph in store?"_

All three sung, "_Sing Prima Donna once more!"_

"_See these demands are rejected," _Mel thought to himself, entering Stephanie's room.

Izzy took in a deep breath, "_Prima Donna, your song shall live again!"_

"_Think of your public!"_

"_You took a snub, but there's a public who needs you!"_

"_Who is this man, who sang to my daughter?"_ Marge thought, sitting on Stephanie's bed.

"_Those who hear your voice, compare it to an angel!"_

"_Think of the cry of undying support! Follow where the imagined limelight leads you!"_

Maggie caught sight of one of the letters, "_Is this guy an angel? Or a madman?!"_

"_Prima Donna, your voice shall never die!"_

"_Voice of hell, or of heaven?"_

"_We must see these demands rejected! For our boat!" _Mel sang.

Stephanie looked at him. "Wh-_why_ is everybody around me singing? I mean, I can hear those guys singing in the other hut, that creepy Eric guy kept singing, what's going on here? I mean," She sighed, and shouted, "HEY! WILL YA' KEEP THE MUSIC DOWN IN THERE?!"

"ONE MORE NOTE?" Isabella answered back.

"ONE!"

She got up as the others in the next hut sang, "_Sing Prima Donna . . . ONCE MORE!"_

And then she stopped as a familiar voice boomed over the entire clearing, "SO! It is to be WAR between us! If these demands are not met, disaster beyond your imagination will occur!"

She yelled again, "THAT WAS MORE THAN ONE NOTE! AND THAT WAS ERIC, BY THE WAY!"

Inside the hut, Isabella gave an evil half-smile. "_Sing Prima Donna, once . . . *deep breath* MO-O-O-O-O-ORE!"_

Everybody came outside. Mel cupped his hands together, "WHO ARE YOU?!"

Silence.

"DO YOU HAVE A BOAT?"

"He's not gonna answer to any of you," Stephanie scoffed. "The crazy bastard."

"Stephanie! Language!" Marge nudged her.

"Well, it's probably true! We don't know who or _what_ his parents were!"

"Bah!" Mel scanned the trees, watching the tops, "It could very well be true. WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Maggie cupped her hands as well, "MARCO!"

"POLO!" Came the far-away reply.

They all took off running, aside from Stephanie. She grabbed Cecil's wrist and ran the opposite way.

* * *

We stopped at a clearing.

"_Why have you brought me here?"_

I was kinda sick of all this singing, but I loved it so much. Just wished it weren't Phantom. I pointed in the direction of which we just came. "_Can't go back there!"_

"_We've gotta help them!"_

"He'll kill you! _His eyes will find us there!"_

"_Stephanie, don't say that!"_

"_Those eyes that burn!"_

"_Don't even think of it!"_

"_And if he has to kill a thousand men—"_

"_Forget this horrible nightmare—"_

"_This Phantom of the Island is there, inside our minds."_ We both finished.

I started pacing back and forth, "_My god, who is this man? Who hunts to kill! I can't escape from him! I never will!"_

He stopped singing and stopped me.

I still sung, "_And in this jungle where he can easily hide, that Eric kid is there, above our heads!"_

He took me by the shoulders, _"_There _is_ no phantom! Just a crazy jungle boy!"

I shook my head, "Well no freaking duh he's not a ghost!"

He sighed.

"_But I've been there, to that cavern, that darkened, evil sight. I couldn't see him in that darkness . . . darkness . . ."_

He hugged me, though I really didn't feel all that scared of Eric. Just freaked out that he was so obsessed with me.

I continued singing, taking advantage of the song, "_But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound, in that night there was music in my mind and through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before-"_

"_The only fright was what you just sung, and nothing more."_

I started laughing, probably a little harder than what the joke called for. Alright, so maybe I was a little nervous.

"No more singing?"

"Well, maybe just once more so we can get that boat . . . Seriously though. You really screwed up "my soul began to soar," do you hate Christine?" He chuckled at his own joke.

I scoffed. "Yeah? Don't make fun of me for what you can't do."

"Oh, is that a challenge?"

I giggled. We started teasing each other on this whole singing thing, until Eric landed in front of us.

I screamed; this time the guy had a sword. "_I gave you my music. Made your songs take wing—"_

"_Oh no you don't that is __**MY**__ song!_" Cecil cried out. He stepped in front of me, something at any _other_ time I would've tripped him over.

"You prove fact? Eric want moment with Stephanie."

He paused, cocking his head and frowning. "What?"

"He wants you to prove that you can sing better than him, and he wanted to have a Phantom moment with me."

"Oh . . ." He cleared his throat and _belted_ out, "_You will cu-u-u-urse the da-a-ay you did not d-o-o-o-o," _he took a deep breath,_ "A-a-a-all that this phanto-o-o-om asked o-o-o-of y-o-o-o-o-o-ou!"_

We both just stared at him. I actually started to applaud, "Dude. Nice lungs!"

He blushed and smiled, the first time I've ever seen him do that.

Eric, on the other hand, looked outraged. "NO! Eric and Stephanie supposed to have moment!"

He jumped up into the trees, roaring. "IT IS TO BE WAR ON **ALL** OF YOU!"

We stared at the tree Eric had been in for a couple of minutes. Cecil then turned to me, "Now that that's over—you want to take a victory swim under that waterfall? Or do you need to get your bathing suit?"

"I have it on under this. Let's go."

I smiled. In truth, I still held a grudge against him for trying to shoot me. But there were moments when he didn't act like such a snob, like right now. Besides, now was supposed to be a happy occasion. Not to be spent arguing over who attempted to kill who.

Anyway, when stuff like this usually happened in Springfield, things would go back to normal within the next day to two weeks. But we still needed the boat—

Nah. I doubt we'd see Eric anymore.

* * *

**Is she right or wrong? Too many pages in one chapter to really know until Part 3!**

**With **. . .** as a trademark,**

—**Sideshow!  
**


	10. Phantom of the Island 3

The island was in celebration; they had decorated the lagoon as a dance floor with sea shells and—well. That was really the only thing they could do with a beach on a deserted island.

Yes: they were celebrating Eric's disappearance. With a masquerade.

They simply dug into the trunk of costumes, courtesy of Izzy's parents. Stephanie and Gino salvaged an old record player, something only the adults knew how to operate, and placed it well away from the tide.

The table, back at the clearing in-between huts, was lined with fruits and fish, and some roots. Not all vegetables. Freshwater from a well. And coconut milk. It was there for when anybody got hungry.

There was happiness throughout the entire island; even the sarcastic ones were making fools of themselves. Simply because they needed the fun.

Most of the girls just had on dresses; Stephanie had on a Gothic 1800s dress (which she happily grabbed, having almost no black clothing in a while to Marge's pleasure), and the black mask to go along with it. Maggie had taken an ocean blue costume, much like Stephanie's. She hand-made her mask out of some shells, feathers, and very strong tree sap.

The men had taken on Victorian clothing, aside from Mel. He had on a Zorro costume. Cecil had the Hamlet costume on, a plain navy blue mask to carry around. Gino had on a Victorian tuxedo.

Mel and Cecil were the last ones to get into their costumes. They met each other outside their huts.

"Ah, Zorro!" Cecil laughed.

Mel bowed, stifling laughter, "Hamlet, Hamlet!"

Both walked together, "_Oh, Melvin what a splendid party!_"

"_Prologue to a bright new start!"_

"_What a job, I'm impressed."_

"_Well, the girls did their best!"_

"_Here's to them!" _Both gave a toast with coconut milk.

Cecil threw his cup into the bushes (technically, it _is_ recycling), "_That toast for all the island-"_

"_Such a shame that Eric boy didn't show us his boat!"_

They arrived at the lagoon. Everyone cheered, and started singing, "_Masquerade! Paper faces of parade! Masquerade, show your face so the world will hopefully find us! Masquerade! Every face a different shade! Look around, there's another mask behind you."_

Isabella sighed happily, "_What a night!"_

"_What a crowd!"_ Mel took Marge to dance.

"_Makes you glad," _Gino took Maggie.

Cecil watched everybody else, "_Makes you proud."_

Stephanie grinned. "_You're watching us, we're watching you."_

Maggie giggled when Gino spun her, _"No more notes."_

"_No more ghosts!" _They picked up where they left off in Salsiccia, spinning around.

They left the others, who were busy singing, while they went to the table. The last thing Maggie heard was, "_And what a masquerade!"_ From Marge.

They stopped spinning. Maggie giggled. "Think of it! A secret relationship!"

"Sh! Don't let anybody else hear about it!"

"I know. But why can't we tell them?"

"Because of we do, and we get rescued, then they'll make sure I won't even be able to join Papa the next time he—"

"Tries to kill my brother? Momma once told me, revenge makes you as bad as the person you're getting revenge on. But I don't agree with her."

"Ha!" He started twirling her around the table, "Why not? Like the taste too much?"

"Yeah. When Mr. Burns—that evil twisted billionaire in town—made the entire town miserable, and he tried to take candy from me, I shot him when his gun landed on me."

Gino stopped twirling her. He stared at Maggie wide-eyed. "Y-you did _what?_"

"I shot him," she started giggling, "And everybody thought it was an accident! Technically it was, since his gun went off like that, but I was still holding it!"

He stared at her a moment more before embracing Maggie into a hug. "I love you!"

She returned the hug, "_Please don't tell them."_

"_Maggie, what are you afraid of?"_

She took his hand, leading him back to the lagoon, "_Let's not argue. Please pretend, you will understand in time."_

"_I can only hope I'll understand in time…"_

They arrived just as everyone made the big finale. Excluding Stephanie, who was standing to the side laughing. Though they all joined together again when the cue came in, "_Masquerade!"_

They all even followed the dance steps, only without the staircase, "_Paper faces of parade! Masquerade, show your face so the world will hopefully find us! Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds! Masquerade, take your fill. Let the spectacle astound you—"_

Everybody cried out when Eric came out of the shadows of the brush.

The men stepped up front. The women got behind them. Stephanie got behind _all_ of them.

He was wearing what he usually did, only fresh palm leaves. A little orange flower in his hair. In any other circumstance, Stephanie would've laughed at this.

He took a step forward. "Ah, castaways. Why—" He took a step forward with each step, the men and Marge stepping up front, "so—silent? Have you missed me, good castaways?"

He stopped three paces away from the huddled group, sharply turning to Mel and Cecil, "_You two_ must learn not to take the women for granted." He spun to Isabella, "The stage, my dear, is not meant to be strutted around on by a _four-year-old!_"

"Jackass!"

Despite herself, Stephanie laughed, then tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Cecil's eye went up in shock.

Eric smirked, facing Gino and Maggie, "Ah, young lovers. Secrets come at a price, younglings."

"So does stalking," Maggie stuck her tongue out at him.

He turned to Marge. "A woman should not be too hasty as to declare Romeo and Juliet apart. Especially when Romeo is listening." He spoke through his teeth on the last note.

Then, unable to hold her laughter anymore, Stephanie leaned on Marge, giggling.

Eric waited until she was done. "Stephanie."

"Romeo and Juliet? The only good thing going for you right now, buddy, is your better English. We finally understand you now. And nice appearance. Makes you look like a first-class ape-boy."

He scowled, pushing aside Marge with his freakishly strong arms and going right up to her. "Ape MAN! You wanna go down that road?"

"Will it get you to leave?"

"NO!" He swiped her mask off her face, making her jump back. "_It was ME who guided you to your voice!"_

"Technically, it was Mom. She was the one who taught me how to talk," She gave a half-smile, knowing this was getting on him.

"_**I**_ deserve credit for your singing voice! _You belong to ME!_"

With that, he leapt into the trees with her mask, howling.

Everybody stared.

"So he came here to steal my mask? Such a gentleman."

"We need to get you outta here!" Marge took her by the shoulders, taking a step towards the forest, then faced Gino and Maggie. "Young _lovers?!_"

Both began to chuckle nervously, looked down at their held hands, and let go of one another.

Stephanie looked at the men, "What did he mean by 'don't take the women for granted?'"

"Eh . . . yes, about that . . ." Mel scratched the back of his head, Cecil took a couple of steps back. "We were simply stating how much we appreciated you doing all of this. Decorating, I mean."

"And cooking that feast," Cecil added. He shrugged, "That was it. We toasted to you all before coming out here, and nothing was really said or acted against you."

Marge shook her head, "Never mind! I'll deal with it later. Stephanie, no arguments—you are coming with me!"

"I wasn't arguing with you. Just release the death-grip and I'll follow peacefully." She tugged her arm out of Marge's tight grasp.

"Sorry. But we need to get you to safety, like a cave somewhere, or one of us can guard your hut, or—hrmmmm." She ran her hands through her hair (that was in the beehive style we all know her for, but shorter).

"Mom, c'mon. This is just like a typical situation with Bob, we always come out on top and always will. Like a typical movie-cliché, good always wins and evil sucks. No offense or anything," She gave Cecil and Gino a look.

Cecil had his arms crossed, "None taken."

They went back to the huts without another word.

* * *

It wasn't until the early, early morning that I dared go outside. I smirked at the sight of Mel softly snoring outside my hut; he was supposed to be "guarding" me. I personally don't see why. I know how to get my way outta a pretty bad situation, including when some ape-kid tries to take me.

I just hope we get rescued without him hitching a ride.

I started thinking about my family. How Bart sounded the last time I heard from him on the radio, how Lisa sounded so disheartened, how dad . . . god. And then my friends. I wonder what Tasha thought about our disappearance. All of my friends. Hoping _everybody_ felt for us, that she especially wasn't messed up about it.

Then again, I know her. She's probably acting the same as I am: hopeful, but not teary-eyed.

Never teary-eyed. No teenager likes to cry, but no teenager hates to cry as much as I do. Same with Tasha, and therefore we're both fine and sane. Sort of. Her maybe, I'm going hard and fast.

I had wandered onto the lagoon beach now. Waves gently lapped at the sand, and a light breeze made the palm trees sway. I had purposely dressed in my bathing suit, a midnight swim was exactly what I needed right now.

Hopefully Jaws wouldn't make my week even worse by eating me.

The water was warmer than it usually was in the daytime. I swam to the small waterfall that was at the very end of the lagoon, leaning back and letting the water fall over my hair.

Once again, it relaxed me.

My thoughts wandered to my family. With Phantom on my mind, and being half-asleep, I began to sing, "_You were all my friends and family._

"_You were almost all that mattered._

I thought of dad. How he was so gullible, how I totally took advantage of that when I was little, how despite his . . . _Homerness_ he always pulled through for his family. Even when the EPA trapped Springfield in the giant glass dome because of him, we were also _saved_ by him. And I guess I do love him in that Simpson way.

Don't expect that to be repeated out loud unless he's on his death bed.

"_You were once a friend and father._

"_And then our worlds were scattered._

I started kicking to the other side of the lagoon, but slowly. "_Wishing you were somehow here again._

"_Wishing we were somehow near._

"_Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow I could be there._

"_Wishing I could hear your voices again. Wishing that I somehow could . . ."_

I reached the middle of the lagoon. The moon was still full, sending down soft rays of light on the surface of the lake. I stared up at it, backing up to where I could touch the sand bottom again.

"_Too many days, watching through this haze! Why can't we just be rescued?! Wishing I was somehow there again! Knowing we didn't even say "goodbye."_

"_Try to forgive, help me to live! Send us the boat to try! _

"_No more lying, not after all of your strangest years. _

"_No more gazing through these wasted tears."_ I may have tweaked the lyrics some, but I wouldn't cry over some memories just because a stalker has decided he has a _Phantom of the Opera_ crush on me.

I didn't finish the song, instead turning around and—

"_Wandering Princess, so lost and weary. Yearning for our voices."_

It was dad's voice. But . . . no. Impossible. Eric couldn't know dad's voice, he _couldn't_. _How could_ he know?

"Dad?" I frantically looked around in the trees, seeing if he was about to fall from a branch. "_Quietly my mind beats against you—"_

We both sung, "_Yet the soul obeys!"_

The trail leading out of the beach to my right started—started _glowing_. A shadow loomed just beyond my sight.

I started walking towards him, "_The angel of music, he was creepy. Judging me by my voice! Dad, please, take us away! Save me from Eric. Dad, please, I misjudged you, before the shipwreck."_

"It's okay now, Steph. Just follow the path. I'm right here."

I was standing three feet away from the path, dripping wet in my bathing suit, and still couldn't see him. I started—slowly—walking towards the path. Then I stopped. "Why can't you come to me?"

"Because I'm hurt. Eric, that ape-man, he hurt me. I can't get up, Steph. Please, help me."

I was at the very edge now. The light trailed off to another curve, and behind that . . . well, dad's voice was too close not to be any further.

"NO! Stephanie, STOP!" Cecil ran up to me, grabbing my arm. "That isn't Homer!"

"Cecil, what—"

I screamed as Eric leapt down from the trees, an actual machete in hand. Fortunately, he was dealing with a homicidal maniac, hopefully not quite an 'ex' by now. Either way, Cecil had a machete too.

He grinned as the two took to battle. "You made your mistake by calling yourself an "ape-MAN." You aren't an ape-man, especially not at the young age of fifteen, sixteen."

At this, Eric lunged for the heart. "I AM an ape-man!"

"No you're not! Boys are still children, and you are definitely acting like a freaking child!"

I started looking for something other than palm leaves and a few stones to fight with.

But as I turned around, I heard an echoing _CRACK_ ring through the air. Slowly, ever so slowly, I faced the two. The first thing I saw was Cecil on the ground, a dribble of blood coming out of his forehead. I gasped before seeing the machete tip wasn't dripping with blood, but the _butt_ of the weapon was wet with the stuff.

Eric looked at me and grinned. I took a step back. He wasn't staring at my face. I had nowhere to run without him chasing me, or sneaking up above me in the trees. He took a step forward; I stepped backwards into the water.

The morale of what happened next: ape-boys don't like to be called "boys." When you call them that, they can run very, very fast.

* * *

It was now eight on the morning, two hours since the fight. The castaways formed a search group when Stephanie was missing, and Cecil's machete (along with Cecil) was missing as well.

Why they did it: nobody would be up at the ungodly hour on any normal circumstance. Marge headed for the lagoon, sure Stephanie had only went out for a swim. She hoped and prayed silently that that was the case.

When she saw Cecil, on the ground, rubbing his head, she tackled him to the ground again, knees weighing his arms down. "_You know where she is!"_

"I promise you, I don't! I was knocked out! _Please_ get off of me!"

"Not until you tell me where she is!"

"I don't know! She went out at six for a swim, and I heard her singing. Then I—" He sighed, "I heard _Homer's_ voice. It was coming from that path," he motioned with his head, "but Eric jumped out from the jungle, and we fought with machetes the old-fashioned way. I was knocked unconscious, and your knees really hurt!"

"Homer?" She cocked her head, eyes narrowed. "You're ticklish, aren't you?"

"_What?!_ No! No, I-I promise-"

She jabbed her fingers into his sides, making him twitch and shriek.

She scoffed, and twined her wiggling fingers through his ribcage. "You're too predictable. Tell me where he took her or I swear, I will switch to your over-sized feet—"

"I DIDN'T SEE THEM LEAVE!" He shouted, laughing.

"I am the mother of Bart Simpson. I know when someone's lying or not. And I know that tone of voice! Bob used it several times when he was telling us a lie, to lead us off of his scheme to kill Bart!"

"I'm NOT! I'm NOT! It's not fair! Tickling isn't fair!" He said this between gasp-fulls of air.

"Do you want me to switch to the feet, or will you talk?"

He started coughing, voice rather high pitched, "_I didn't see the-hem!" _

* * *

I came out of my room (a curtain and a cornered wall), huffing and adjusting the vine dress Eric made me put on (it was either I put it on myself, or he'd gladly do it for me. The ape almost didn't even give me a choice). He turned around. I sang, "_Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for flesh?! Am I now to be prey to your lust for song?"_

"Hm_. That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the true song." _He sighed, but smiled. "You wish to see my face?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Is it seriously like the real phantom's?" I tried to look without getting too close to him.

His grin disappeared as he took off his mask.

I immediately started laughing when his _giant_ ears flapped out of their tucked place. Those things were _saucers_, it was _hilarious!_ Worse than _Dumbo!_

"Oh, really now! _Christine_ didn't laugh!"

I was still giggling, "Yeah? Well, I'm not Christine!" He growled, then smiled in a way that made me immediately stop laughing. "What're you smiling at?"

His grin grew larger. I backed up a few steps, though there wasn't much room. We were back in the cave, the only way to get out was to swim or use the boat that wasn't fast enough for _his_ grabby hands.

Especially with the dress. It was skin-tight, and went down to my knees. The thing was entirely made out of vines and leaves, making me look like an ape-girl. Part of why I wouldn't go near the water was because of what would happen to the dress if it got soggy . . . *_shudder_* I, fortunately, was smart enough to keep my bathing suit on under it. But still.

Eric lunged for me; I started running around the cramped area, using his bed as a source of a cartoony-blockage. "Now Eric, you don't really want to do this, do you? I mean, being raised by apes must have been a pretty bad influence, but I bet that inside somewhere, there's a spark of humanity left—"

He lunged for me again, and we ended up repeating the switch-sides process several times.

* * *

"_Get ha-off!_" He started squirming again, trying to move his arms.

She had started running her fingers over his belly, "Tell me where my daughter is!"

She was met with heavy laughter; and felt his legs kicking. "GE-HEH-HET O-O-OFFF!"

Mel ran out of the forest then, shouting, "_I know where they are! I know_—" He stopped running. "_What_ on _earth_—?"

She didn't stop, "He knows where they are!"

"I DO NOT!"

"It doesn't matter! Isabella said she saw the cave he took her to! C'mon!"

Marge scrambled up, following Mel. Cecil laid there gasping, and called out into the forest, "WHY does everything on this island TICKLE ME?!"

Nonetheless, he got up and followed.

* * *

_Joy. I'm lost._

He had waited too long to get up, and quickly lost the others' trail. "Crap. _Marge! Where are—YAH!_"

He fell into a hole covered by palm leaves, and continued falling.

_A trap, _His eyes widened, _how long does it—_

He fell out into a cavern, saw a brief glimpse of it in two seconds, and then was underwater. Cecil swam back up to the surface, and saw Eric and Stephanie.

Eric smiled, taking Stephanie's derived attention to his use, and held a knife to her neck. If Cecil had wanted to use the machete, Stephanie would be in the way. His grin turned to a smirk, "I think, my dear, we have a guest."

"Seriously? _Quoting_ the play now?" Stephanie tried to kick him. "Damn this dress! Actually, it isn't even enough to _qualify_ as one!"

"It suits your figure," Eric said simply.

This made her eyes flick down nervously, and she shifted her posture a little. "The real phantom wasn't this perverted," She muttered.

"You, quiet!"

"Screw you!" She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, making him release his grip slightly. She then elbowed him in the ribcage, though he still didn't let go.

"I was raised by apes. I am used to rough-housing." He let go anyway, turning to Cecil.

Stephanie backed up a few steps when she saw Cecil's hand twitching to the machete.

"The last song is the best of them all, even if you don't sing."

"Damn it, don't you get it? If I must quote from the play, if _music_ is the only thing that gets to you, then _free her! Do what you like, only free her!_" He sung the last two lines.

Eric laughed, turning to Stephanie. "_Your father makes a passionate plea._"

She gave him the eye. "He is _not_ my father! Speaking of which, how did you know my dad's real voice?"

He shrugged. "I have been on this island for a very long time. Including the time before your strange video-contraption lost its source of power."

"You mean my cell phone? You listened to my _private_ videos?!" Her fists clenched.

"While you were too."

"Why?!"

"_We love her too!"_ Both eyes turned once again to Cecil.

"Creepy," She cocked her head a little, a slight grin on her face, "but makes my day."

"_Does that mean nothing? We love her too! Show some compassion, for god's sa-_"

"_Nobody showed any compassion for me!_"

Stephanie decided they weren't heading straight into war. She took a few more steps towards Cecil, stopping at the waters' edge. She gave him the look that said, "_I am NOT going any farther!"_

"_Monsieur, I bid you welcome. Did you think that I would harm her?"_ Eric came up to Cecil, extending his hand. "_Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are YOURS!"_

Stephanie gasped and stepped back again when Eric threw a hard punch to Cecil, sending him flailing to the right, and into a fishing net that flew up into the air.

A deliberate trap.

"_Nothing can save you now, except, perhaps, Stephanie!"_ He turned to her, grabbing her wrist, "_Start a new life with me! Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his—your friend to his death!"_

She snarled at him. "_Those tears I almost shed for your cruel fate grow colder, and turn to tears of HATE!"_

"_Stephanie, please forgive me, we did it all for you and all for nothing!"_

"_Farewell my fallen idol and false friend. I had such hopes that you had a boat and now those hopes are shattered!"_

They went on with the song, some of Stephanie and Cecil's notes breaking a little. Finally, it got to Eric's part: "_So do you end your days with me? Or send him to his grave?"_

"_Why make her lie to you to save me?"_

"'_Angel' of 'music,' you deceived me. I _didn't_ give my mind blindly!"_

Eric stared her down. "You drive my patience. MAKE the CHOICE."

"Aren't you just a bucketful of sunshine? Why don't you just step off a cliff?" she sighed, "_Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known? God gave me the courage to show you, you are not alone!"_

With that, she hugged Eric. When his back was to Cecil, she winked at him, mouthing the word, "machete." He grinned and took it out, but paused when the castaways' voices drifted down the tunnel.

"_Track down this ape he must be found! Track down this man who ran underground!"_

Eric broke the hug, looking at Stephanie. "No phantom ending."

She frowned. "What?"

"No phantom ending. The Phantom never got Christine. I, however," he tightened his grip on her arms, "_will_."

There was a gigantic splash. Cecil had now cut himself loose. However, he had landed on his feet with the weapon in hand. "I suggest, for all three of us, you let her go."

Eric regained the defense posture, with her in front of him. "Why do _you_ care?"

"Yeah, though I _am_ appreciative of you, I have to wonder that myself. For a man who hates basically my entire family and almost shot me, you seem to care _very_ much." Stephanie looked unfazed.

He smiled grimly at her. "Consider this an apology."

Eric ran behind several curtains, lifting Stephanie with little to no trouble at all. She cried out, kicking him (even if she wasn't over his shoulder, nobody wants to be lifted up by a crazed stalker).

* * *

Behind the curtains was yet _another_ tunnel. I stopped kicking at Eric, instead keeping my eyes ahead of us. There were lit torches to keep us from running into a wall, which would have hurt considering that I'm up front here. I heard Cecil chasing after us, crying out.

We reached a fork in the road. Eric took the left, and few seconds later I couldn't hear Cecil's footsteps. I yelled, and there they were again. We repeated that every time a fork came our way, until we eventually came out of the tunnel system on the cliff.

On the other side of the island.

Eric set me down (awkward to say), and backed up a few steps from me.

"You'd _better_ get away from me!" I snapped, pulling down the dress some. Then back up.

_At least I kept my bathing suit on under this._

Cecil emerged from the tunnel then, gasping for breath. When he finally got it under control, he said, "Apparently spending almost three weeks on a deserted island doesn't help you get in shape." He stretched his back, popping something in there. He sighed with relief and relaxed.

I sort of smirked.

Eric walked up to the edge. "_Take her. Forget this. Forget all you've seen."_ My masquerade mask was now in his hands, taken out from an apparent leaf-pocket. He turned away from us, facing the edge.

Too close for my taste. "Eric?"

He turned his head. "_Stephanie, I love you. You alone can make my song take flight."_

A slight breeze flew up, making our hair fly with it. Several sea gulls swooped by him, but seemed to do so in slow motion. And Eric let himself fall.

Cecil and I screamed, running up to the edge, watching him fall. "_It's over now! The Music Of The Night!"_

"Turn away from it!" Cecil placed his arm around me, turned me around, just before the sickening squish of his body hitting the jagged rocks below reached our ears. I covered my gaping mouth and let him take me back into the tunnels.

And, for the first time since Troy came here, I felt tears trickling down my cheek. But this time, they weren't for myself.

* * *

**This didn't start off as a three-parter that would take almost three months to finish. :P Oh well, it was fun re-writing the lyrics. Next chapter will be coming to theatres - I mean to this site - soon! Or after Christmas!**


	11. Bats in the Belfry Part 1

Clouds had gathered in the sky, sweeping the joy out of the castaways as they stood at the edge of the cliff.

Stephanie was about three steps away from the very edge. She finally took those few steps forward, with a rose in her hand. Silently, she dropped it over the edge. The wind picked it up, taking it farther out to sea.

"Farewell, ape-man. You stupid over-reacting stalker." She shook her head sadly, turning around.

They went back to the clearing as the gray wisps above them threatened rain.

* * *

**Original: Gilligan has been bitten by a bat, and believes he will turn into one when the moon is full.**

**Mine: basically the same thing, only with Gino. And a special guest appearance by Samantha, the narrator who took over for her cousin Scott who took over for his brother in my FictionPress story "Once Upon A Knock-Off."**

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

"Uncle, my back hurts! Can we take a _small_ break?" Gino adjusted the bag of coconuts over his shoulder.

"Oh, fine. I need a break too, I suppose," Cecil set down the four other bags of coconuts they had collected for food.

Gino threw his down, the contents spilling out. Some of them went into the cave that was right behind him.

Cecil groaned, "Oh, really now!"

"I'll get it!" Gino ran inside.

"Gino, wait! That's an unexplored cave!"

"_Ach! Uncle, help!_" Gino came running back out, a large bat following close behind. "_It bit me!_ _It bit me!"_

Both men dropped to the ground. The thing circled the air several times, and went back into the cave.

They got back up, "Uncle, it bit me! Right on the neck!"

"Let me see," He turned Gino's head a little, inspecting the neck. There were two red fang marks, a flesh wound, but nothing too deep. He sighed with relief, "It's nothing, thank god. But let's go see Mel, just to make sure."

"Will I turn into a vampire?"

He smirked. "No! That's just in movies."

"But if voodoo exists, then why shouldn't vampires? That bat was too big _not_ to-eh be a vampire bat—"

"Hush! There's no such thing as vampires. Let's go see Mel to clean that up, and I'll get the rest of the coconuts later."

* * *

"Oh, come now, Gino," Mel said, inspecting the wound, "the only real thing you have to fear is rabies."

"But tonight's the full moon! I'll turn into a vampire!" Gino exclaimed.

"Oh, nonsense!"

"But one time, I saw this movie—it was back in Salsiccia. A man was bitten, and he was turned into a vampire, and he slept in a coffin, and when the full moon rose up," He spread out his arms and slowly lifted onto his toes, "he'd rise out of the coffin, and spread his cape, and—" He gasped, eyes now widened, regaining his normal posture.

"What? What is it?" Mel said.

He chuckled a little, "I scared myself."

"Oh, really!" Cecil exclaimed. "Vampires don't exist!"

"Oh yeah? If voodoo exists, then how can we be sure?"

Neither men had anything to say to that.

Mel shifted, "Eh, you-you'd better get the women to dress that, right now."

"Right, right," Cecil took Gino by the arm. "Let's go, Gino."

* * *

Stephanie looked at her mother. She was staring into a mirror without the silver. "Mom, what's wrong with the mirror?"

"Oh, the silver came off. Nothing but glass now, see?"

"Well, yeah. But why are you staring at nothing then?"

"I have nothing else to do but imagine my beehive hairstyle is back up."

"Well, you shouldn't feel sorry for yourself." She headed for the door.

"Why?"

"I'm so bored I'm standing here talking to you." Stephanie opened the door just as Gino and Cecil came in. "Oh joy. Care to come in, ex-homicidal maniacs? We have just enough room for the four of us inside this cramped little hut, it'll be so cozy!" She said sarcastically, scoffing.

"Well then, I bet you'll just be heartbroken to know that I'm leaving to go seal up a cave infested with bats." Cecil stepped out of the door.

"Bats?" She frowned.

Gino looked at both women. "One of them bit me," He angled his neck, "But it's nothing, absolutely nothing. Just your ordinary everyday bite on the neck, nothing to be scared of, nothing to be worried about, nothing to be hungry about or anything."

All three of them frowned at the last part, but Marge took a look at it anyway. "You're right. It's nothing." She smiled at him.

"That's what you think." He muttered.

"Oh, it's fine!" Stephanie looked at it, "Yeah, nothing a band aid won't fix. How'd you get it?" She took out the water-proof first-aid kit.

"Oh, I, uh, I was bitten by a-a butterfly."

Both women looked at him. Stephanie put the kit back, "Outta band aids, sorry. How did a butterfly do _that?_"

"It stood on a chair."

Both gave him the same confused look.

"A table? Tree?"

Marge sighed. "It doesn't matter how it happened, I guess. You just sit down right here, while we go get a band aid from Mel." They started to walk out, "And remember: nobody ever died from a little bite on the neck!"

When the door shut, he smiled. "Hey, that _is_ right," He picked up the mirror. "Nobody ever died from a simple little bite on the neck, and—"

Gino's eyes widened. He had no reflection. His jaw dropped as he stood, kicking the chair down in the process.

"I can't see myself. _I have no reflection._" He took a step back, "I've become one of them. They don't have any reflections either." He ran out the door, into the forest yelling, "_I've become one of them! I've become one of them!_"

* * *

Gino stared up at the ceiling, on the top hammock. Cecil was at the window, star gazing. "Uncle, they have no reflection, and I had no reflection! Vampires do not have reflections, either! I have become one of them!"

Cecil shook his head, going over to the hammock, "Gino, you've got to get a hold on this! You're going to make yourself _sick!_"

"What if I start biting necks? Then I'll _really_ be sick!"

"Now, you can't worry about that! _Mel_ even said you're not a vampire! Let's stop talking about this mirror situation and go to sleep!" He lay down in the bottom bunk. He shut his eyes, settling down.

"You're right," Gino said softly, mostly to himself, "Who cares that I didn't see my own reflection?" Cecil opened his eyes, listening intently, "That I'm afraid to close my eyes because I might turn into a bat and fly around and bite all of my friends." He laughed. "I'm not going to bite my friends' and uncle's necks and drink their blood, killing each and every single last one of—"

Cecil rolled out of his hammock, going to the clothes bag.

"What are you doing?"

He took out a scarf, wrapping it around his neck, "Oh. Eh, n-nothing, Gino."

"Why are you wrapping that scarf around your neck?"

"Because there's a draft and I'm cold."

"It's not cold! It's ninety to a hundred-ten degrees out!"

"Well, I must be blocking the draft from you!"

"Uh-huh. A draft? You're afraid I'm going to turn into a vampire!"

"No I don't!" He laid back down, "Now good-night!"

* * *

Gino woke up. His eyes were as wide as they would go and glazed, staring straight ahead. He hopped down from the hammock with his blanket serving as a cape, exiting the hut.

He instead opened the girl's hut. Maggie was talking to herself, "_Mm. Three million dollars of Mr. Burns' money. Four million dollars of Mr. Burns' money . . ."_

But Gino went over to Isabella, swooping the cape as he leaned into her neck and—

"_AAAAUGHHH! Get him OFF!_" She pushed Gino down, awakening the other two.

Maggie awoke with a start, "Fend them off while I hide in Mr. Burns' vault!"

Stephanie looked at her, then down at Gino. "What happened?"

"He tried to bite my throat!" They all got up, circling him. Gino's eyes were still glazed over, and he was still staring straight ahead.

"Gino? Gi-i-ino?" Maggie said soothingly, "We're going to Disneyland!"

He jumped a little, snorting. Then, looking at them, he said, "Why are you in my hut?"

Stephanie scoffed. "Your hut? This is _our_ hut. You just tried to eat Isabella!"

His eyes widened. "Oh no . . . it's because I'm a vampire! I can't help it, I'm sorry!" He got up and ran outside before they could do anything about it. "_I'm sorry!"_

* * *

_That morning_

"Mel. Put the chemicals down and no one gets hurt."

Mel looked up from the covered-with-the-unknown table. "Stephanie. Say hello or hi before barging into somebody's hut and no one will repeat this sentence."

"Hello," I crossed my arms, watching him work. "What are you doing?"

He smirked, "Making an anti-proof vampire concoction."

"Oh, my god," I began to laugh. "You seriously believe in vampires? I guess this answers the question 'Team Edward or Jacob?'"

"Ha-ha-ha. I'm making this for a psychological reason. You have heard about the bat incident, right?"

"Yeah. You have heard about Gino's midnight snack, right?"

"Yes. Well, this is for that purpose exactly. If Gino believes that this is an "anti-vampire potion," then his mind will be at ease."

"No more Izzy-snacks?"

He chuckled. "No more Izzy-snacks."

I almost went out the door, then turned around. "Seriously. What's in it?"

"Just a few plants from around the island, and a few berries to add flavor. Nothing harmful enough to blow us all up, I swear."

"Okay . . ." I turned around, opening the door, "I'll tell him to come in here."

"Well, it can wait until after breakfast. That way, he has something to digest it with."

"Okay," I shrugged, heading for our usual breakfast of fruits and roots.

I swear, if I don't get actual cereal—even if it's just _Lucky Charms_—I'll go insane.

* * *

Cecil ran out of his hut, holding a note. "Have any of you seen Gino?!" He slammed his fists on the breakfast table.

Stephanie eyed the piece of paper like it was a bug that needed to be squished. "Please for the love of god tell me Eric didn't come back."

"What? No! Gino wrote this! Listen:

"_My dear friends and family,_

"_I'm sorry for everything that has happened. Mainly for trying to eat Isabella. But I have decided to leave, and save you all the trouble of having to deal with me. So, by the time you read this, I shall be long gone. And if you try to find me, I'll stick my fangs in your neck, which I'll probably live to regret._

"—_Gino."_

He looked back up, "And I took the liberty of going back to the cave where he was bitten. The beast was a freaking _fruit_ bat!"

Mel stood, "We need to form a search party! Go through every cave until we do find him!"

Both men sulked off in a rush to the supply hut. Stephanie stood, talking mostly to herself, "Why would he do a stupid thing like _that?!"_

* * *

**I think I forgot to mention: Gilligan's Island and its plot stories belong to Sherwood Schwartz, not me.**

**And the next part should come soon, considering the fact that I'm watching this episode as we type/read.**


	12. Bats in the Belfry Part 2

Gino dumped out the contents of his back-pack out onto the cave floor.

Er, not exactly a cave. It was, Gino supposed, but not a very deep one. The farthest it went was about seven, eight feet into ground, and he could easily see the outside world perfectly.

Problem was, if he really _did_ turn into a vampire, it would kill him.

But that hasn't happened yet, and he doubted it would for a while.

He threw open the "snack-sack," as Marge had called it, and took out a banana.

"Need to protect my friends . . ." He muttered, "Need to stay in here—boy, am I courageous! Boy, am I brave!" He laid down on the sandy floor, using the sack as a pillow, "Boy, am I scared!"

He ate the banana, slowly drifting off to sleep.

_The scene slowly changes—bold letters spelling out "Transylvania—1895" come across the screen, and we see a large mansion. Then we see a whole camera crew, with a girl leading them across the screen, saying, "Wait for us! Wait for us! I'm the narrator, Samantha! From FictionPress!"_

_When they got across the screen, one of the men said, "Alright, carry on."_

Two people approached the front door: Marge and Cecil.

They're dressed as anybody is in 1895—Cecil is wearing a top-hat and cape with a ridiculously hilarious suit and tie, and Marge is wearing a fox-fur coat over a black dress.

They approached the front door, "Hurry, Marge! Let's get out of this fog and into shelter for the night!"

"Oh, but it's so gloomy here . . . can't we find a cheerier castle to stay in?"

"Nonsense! We stay here for the night, and get the heck out tomorrow! _Open up!_" He banged on the door.

"Mmmm, Cecil, I don't have a good feeling about this place. My pearls just curled," She reached up to her neck and took a pearl between two fingers.

An older lady—who looked much like a young child—opened the door. "Go away! Leave and never return! _Go back!"_

Cecil looked at Marge and patted the old hag's head, "Somebody got up on the wrong side of her cot this morning." He cleared his throat, turning to the woman, "How old are you anyway, you little pipsqueak?"

The woman stuck out her little jaw in defense. "I'm Isabella Magenta Heart the First, who slew the vicious chicken of Romania at age four, who claimed she saw a vampire at age four, who supposedly sent out a letter to Sherlock Holmes and his associate at age two (though many don't believe that), who is currently age four, and who _you_ should look up to." She raised her head high on the last note.

Marge leaned into Cecil's ear and whispered, "Just tell her everybody looks up to her so she'll let us in for free."

Both stifled laughter poorly before he turned back to this Isabella girl. "Aye, I'll speak the universal language of the entire human race."

"What's that?" Isabella asked.

He crouched down to her level and took out his wallet, saying, "Money! Mula! Pastel! Neara! Take your pick my dear, it's all universal."

She grinned and took out a twenty as he gasped, "No fees are necessary. Come right in, follow me."

She led them inside the castle, into a large entrée room with a staircase leading up—covered in cobwebs. There was a table with a grey vase on top, with dead flowers inside—covered in cobwebs. There were several different doorways leading all separate ways—covered in cobwebs. There was one door that this narrator hadn't noticed—covered in cobwebs. And then there was another door that this narrator hadn't noticed—it was brown. Then a nice furniture set, all surrounding a cozy and rather adorable fireplace in the corner.

Isabella reached up to a rope, "Let me call my mistress. Let her know she has guests for this evening."

She pulled down; the sound that ensued sounded like a foghorn, making both adults jump.

An older girl—one who looked a lot like a teenager—got up from one of the chairs in another room with her arms crossed over her chest like a dead person. She had on a white silk dress, running down to her shins. Her hair was dyed black, loosely drifting down her shoulders.

She grinned and said, "The bell tolls. An un-expecting visitor has crossed these premises. I must go wake The-Man-That-Claims-To-Be-My-Master!"

She went across the room to a large coffin. There was a sign on it that read, "THE VAMPIRE IS IN."

Stephanie called out, "Marco!"

A muffled cry came from inside the coffin, "_Polo!_"

She lifted the coffin lid, revealing Gino. Only he was dressed as a vampire—if you immediately thought of Edward Cullen, you're corrupted by an evil so strong and powerful it's stupid.

He was dressed as _Dracula_, the _original_ vampire.

Stephanie said, raising her arms, "The moon is full, and guests await. Wake up, Gino! Get out of your crate!"

Her arms dropped to her side as he rose up slowly. "I am the vampire. Prince of Evil. Duke of Darkness. Team Edward. And other rotten and horribly nasty things."

Stephanie went on, "Gino! There are guests in our house! Dinner is served." She smiled slyly as he got out of the coffin.

"Yes!" He hissed.

"Yes-s-s!" She hissed back.

"Yes-s-s-s-s! I can hardly wait to put the bite on them!" He ran over to the window, "I shall turn into a bat, and swoop down upon _their unsuspecting mists!_"

He jumped out.

Stephanie winced when she heard crashing noises from below. A few moments later, she saw his hand reach up for the window sill.

She lifted him up and onto the floor—he was covered in weeds and dirt. "What happened?" She hissed.

He looked down, ashamed, "I don't know how to turn into a bat. Nobody ever taught me."

She scoffed. "What kind of vampire are you anyway?"

He looked back up, frowning, "Hey! I'm still new at this! And _they're_ making me_ nervous!"_ Gino motioned at the camera crew and Samantha in the background (we narrators aren't allowed to use "me" or "I" anymore. Talking about yourself in third-person is apparently the way to go now).

"Yeah, it's getting pretty hard to ignore you guys," Stephanie crossed her arms.

_Samantha's_ brow went up. "Yeah? After we're done here, I can hire a _real_ crew and go back to my original fic on FictionPress. We'll never have to see you guys again."

"Huh?" Gino's face mirrored Stephanie's: confusion.

_Samantha_ rolled her eyes. "Nevermind, you guys weren't given the ability to break the fourth wall."

Stephanie gave her a look, "Break the fourth wall in _what?_ Who _are_ you people?"

_She_ sighed. "Nothin'. We'll just make like trees and leave your sight. Buh-bye!"

They vanished.

A very confused two minutes later, no help to the "make like trees" statement, they stopped guessing who _Samantha_ was and got back to the original story plot.

"Okay, just . . . wait here, and I'll bring the victims to you myself."

"But what if they see my coffin? Then they'll become _suspicious!_"

Stephanie slowly wiped the spit out of her eye, hiding the anger. "I can fix that."

She unlatched a few latches, pulled out a mini-bed, and vola! Two beds from one coffin.

"Twin bats!" She laughed at her own joke. "I'll go get the victims. Meanwhile, you'd better go and hide!"

"Ooh. I-I'll go hide in the alcove!"

He opened the back door and entered it just as Stephanie cried out, "No!"

He crawled back in through the same door a minute later, growling. "I thought you said the workers _finished_ it!"

"No, I said they _didn't_ finish it! They've been too preoccupied with, and I quote, second-breakfast, elevensies, third-breakfast, first lunch, second lunch, they agreed to skip third lunch, fourth lunch, and then their hours here are up, and—"

"I get it! I get it. Mm. They'll be tomorrow's _first_ lunch. I'll just go hide in the closet." He paused, "We do have one, right?"

"Yeah, it came with the house."

He sneered at that, but went inside.

* * *

Stephanie led the older adults into the room. "I hope you like it."

Cecil flinched at the décor alone. "Like it? Ma'am, your decorator should be chained to an anvil and thrown into a river along with his stylings!"

She shrugged. "Well, no one's perfect."

"Cecil, we really should be more gracious to our hostess!" Marge scolded. She turned to Stephanie, "Thank you for allowing us to stay in this perfectly _beastly_ room! It looks like a dungeon." She added cheerfully.

"Well said, my dear," Cecil knocked on the mattress that used to be a coffin. It sounded more like knocking on a piece of wood. "Oh, lovely. Petrified mattress."

"Mmmm, it's okay, dear. You'll be so tired you'll sleep like a dead man!" Marge patted his shoulder.

"You're so right!" Stephanie laughed at the inside-joke, and started to walk out just as someone knocked at the door. Her eyes widened. "Another guest! Excuse me, I must go prepare another room."

"Were you expecting more guests?" Cecil dropped his cape on the "bed" and looked up.

"No. But The-Man-That-Claims-To-be-My-Master and I _love_ to have extra people for dinner." Once again, she laughed at the joke and walked out.

* * *

"I do say, Sherlock, I don't think anyone's at the door!"

"For the last damned time, my name isn't _Sherlock!_ It's Melvin Van Horne!" Mel held up his hilariously-large magnifying glass to the door-knocker, adjusting his (Sherlock Holmes) hat.

"And _my_ name isn't Maggie _Watson_. It's Maggie _Simpson_. You _never_ get it right!"

"You remind me of my ex."

"And you look more like this guy I know at school named Sherlock, so I'm gonna call you that as long as you call me—"

"Oh, _shut up_ _Wats-z_-z-z-_M-Maggie_."

"Nah-ah-ah, _Sherlock!_" She swiped the magnifier out of his hand, inspecting the door on her own.

They both stood in silence for a few seconds.

After that, Mel turned to her. "Wait, how old are you again?"

She opened her mouth as the door opened. Maggie frowned as she looked through the glass. "I do say, Sherlock, I think your magnifying glass is broken!"

"Stop calling me Sher—wait, why would you think that?" He took the glass away from her.

"Because there's an old ugly hag-lady at the door."

He nudged her. "That's because there really _is_. And watch your language!" He turned to the woman, "Please excuse my associate, Maggie _Watson_'_s_ remark, you ugly old hag-lady. My name is Melvin Van Horne. We have come to this castle on a—"

"Uh, sir?" Maggie pulled on his cape.

"What, what is it?" He snapped.

"She won't recognize you if you use your real name."

He stuttered a bit. "You little—why would you even—do'h! It's all your fault for telling the press my name is Sherlock stinking _Holmes!_"

"Taught you not to eat my cookies anymore, didn't it?"

"Wait a minute. _Sherlock Holmes?"_ Isabella spoke up. "I wrote to you about the mysterious happenings in this castle two _years_ ago! What happened?"

"Well, you see," Mel said, "Our trip was kind of rough."

"How so?"

"Our carriage was stolen. We had to walk."

"You _walked?!_ All the way from _England?_ What about crossing the sea?"

"That was the part that took the longest," Maggie said. "See, all of our money was inside the carriage, so we had to walk across the thing."

"How'd you do _that?!_"

"Well, we'd take a step, come up for air. Take a step, come up for air. Take a step, kill a few sharks. Take a step—"

"Yes, yes! Come in, please!"

She ushered them inside.

* * *

By now, Cecil and Marge were in their night gowns, putting their clothes away for tomorrow.

"Cecil," Marge said, holding her fur coat, "Please. I don't feel safe inside this house! The furs on my fox just stood up."

He smirked. "What have you to fear, my dear? No rhyme intended."

"_Vampires_. I've heard about _vampires_ in this town."

"Ha! That's a laugh. Twilight hasn't been invented yet, and Anne Rice hasn't been born to write _Interview With A Vampire_ yet!"

As he was ranting, Gino stepped out of the closet with his cape spread.

"Ask any five-year-old, they'll tell you vampires. Aren't. _Real_. Unless they happen to be a corrupted Twilight fan."

She turned around, saw Gino, and nudged Cecil. "There's a vampire."

Cecil turned around as well. His eyes widened as he turned back around and said to himself, "Last time I listen to a five-year-old."

They started screaming as Gino attacked, and Stephanie opened the door, joining the party.

* * *

Mel was inspecting the dead flowers in the vase on the table in the center of the room (I _triple-dog-dare_ you to say that three times fast). Maggie's eyes widened as she heard screaming.

"Sherlock! I-I do say, I hear screaming!"

"What?" He didn't look up.

"I said," she cupped her hands, "_I do believe I hear screaming!_"

"Speak up, Watson! I can't hear you over the screaming!" He went back to inspecting the vase before turning to her again. "Ah! Watson! Our first clue!"

"What, what is it?"

"Someone is _screaming!_"

They ran upstairs, only to just miss Stephanie pushing Cecil out the window and turning into a bat and following him down. Gino was leaned over, "feeding" off of Marge.

Mel tapped his shoulder. "I do say sir, have you seen a vampire around here?"

He looked up at them, eyeing Maggie lovingly before turning back to Mel. "A vampire, you say? Why don't you put an add in the newspaper?" He went back to drinking.

"Ah, marvelous idea!"

He almost turned to go before Maggie cried out, "_He's_ the vampire!"

Gino sighed, leaning back up. "Can't I feed in peace? At least I'm not a Cullen!"

Mel growled, taking off his hat and slipping the bone out of his hair.

At the exact same time, Cecil crawled into the window sill, gasping. "Oh, _ga-ha-hawd!_"

Mel threw the bone. Gino ducked, and it instead hit Cecil. He fell off, screaming. A second later, it was abruptly cut off.

While Gino was distracted, Mel said to Maggie, "Get him, Maggie Whatsname!"

"How am I supposed to do that? He's older than me!"

"How old _are_ you?"

Gino tackled her to the ground. They rolled around a bit, until she ended up on top. "Sherlock! Now!"

"I got it!" He picked Gino up from under her, and they both carried him to the window sill. "Die, you infernal son-of-a-Cullen!"

They threw him outside.

Stephanie stopped feeding, and went over to "The-Man-That-Claims-To-Be-Her-Master," who was now on the ground.

"Gino?" She shook him, "Gino? G-i-i-i-no."

* * *

Gino woke up with a yelp, seeing Sherlock, Watson, and The-Girl-That-Claims-He's-Somehow-Her-Master.

Sherlock was crouched at his level. "Are you alright?"

He jumped up, growling. "I am the vampire!"

"Gino, now wait a minute. It wasn't a vampire bat that bit you! It was a _fruit_ bat!"

"You aren't a vampire, kid," Stephanie said, laughing. "Trust me, I've had a dream that I'm somebody else too, but I don't believe that I'm really her," She frowned a little. "Despite how realistic the dreams are . . . but they aren't very common." She shrugged it off.

"See?" Mel said, "We all have those dreams, or beliefs. You aren't really a vampire!" He laughed.

"I have varned you for ze last time, Sherlock Holmes!" Gino threw a punch to Mel's gut.

"_OOF!_" He leaned over, grasping his stomach.

Maggie's jaw dropped open as Stephanie burst out laughing.

He turned to Stephanie now, "Quickly, That-Woman-Who-Claims-I'm-Somehow-Her-Master! Let us be gone before Maggie Whatsname starts to fight and Sherlock Holmes gets over his stomach-shock!"

Stephanie now doubled over laughing.

Finally, Gino realized where he was. He blinked a few times, "Ooh. Mel? Is that you?"

Mel slowly stood up, almost growling. "No. It's _Frankenstein's Monster if I get my hands on_—_!_"

Maggie squealed, almost crushing Gino in her surprise-attack hug.

Stephanie smiled and nudged Mel, "You can get back at him later." She helped him up.

"Everything seems to punch me. Especially after I became a sideshow." He groaned again, "Oh yeah. I'm definitely out of shape if a child's punch can hurt me," He frowned. "But a punch in the gut _should_ hurt! Because of that clown, I was immune to most types of pain! Aside from what _he_ inflicted upon me."

"You should quit, then."

The children ran back to the clearing ahead of them, holding hands.

Stephanie's grin went down to a smirk. "I think you deserve it. Retire at a pretty young age so Dad'll envy you."

He smirked as well. "After suing that clown for all he's got."

"How about we split it fifty-fifty?"

"How about not?" He grinned.

"How about _I_ sue _you_ and then keep everything?" She grinned wickedly.

"Oh, I would like to see you _try! _What charges would you bring up against me?"

"Remember when you ate that piece of cocunut-creme-pie Mom made that_ I_ had called?"

They went on like this until they got back to the clearing.

* * *

_A quick note from Samantha: _

_Thank YOU, Sideshow Cellophane, and all of her supporters for this story, for supporting me and my crew during this rough time with my cousin. I can assure you all: Scott hasn't bitten anybody else in a full twenty-three days, and the doctors are _really_ close to finding a cure for Bobo. In the past four days, he's only needed to be sedated thirty-two times! We're very proud of Scott, though. Now if we can only get him to stop singing "They're Coming to Take Me away Ha-Ha!" . . ._

_Come and check out 'Once Upon A Knock-Off' anytime you wish. Bring a couple of friends if you like. We have the ability to break the fourth wall, so we'll throw a party in celebration of the money you're giving us by being a part of this story. You're invited! :)_

_Thank you once again,_

—_Samantha Stacy Salina Selena Sabrina Sabina Sabia Sabie Sabella Sakura Saffron Samara Saida Tabitha Semdramcaulica (Mrs.)_

* * *

**For the record: 'Once Upon A Knock-Off' is one of my stories on FictionPress. You can't find Samantha's full name on there, though. I **_**triple-dog-dare**_** you to say her full name out loud without messing up, because I honestly can't. :P **

**And I'm sorry if you're a Twilight fan, but I decided I wanted to make fun of Edward. Just because I can. X)**


	13. 1 After-Effects of Island Fever

_Original episode synopsis: Mr. Howell mentions the castaways in his will, then fears they may be trying to kill him for his money._

_This one:_ Ah, but that'll ruin the surprise!

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

"_I'm NOT a child! I'm fourteen!"_

Maggie flinched. She was sitting in one of the lounge chairs, outside the huts on the other side of their clearing—meaning she was safe from the fire on the other side. Right now, she could hear Stephanie and Marge battling out some issue by the table, over something she didn't believe even _they_ remembered the cause of. It was like the smallest of sparks in a room full of gas, and they just blew up over—

"_Oh, excuse me, Miss TEENAGER! If you think you're so smart, why don't you just live elsewhere?!"_

A minute later, Stephanie marched past Maggie, and into the jungle, grumbling.

Simultaneously, she heard Mel and Cecil arguing, and now heard Gino and Isabella. Finally, she understood what was happening:

She had seen this happen with the whole family before. In a nightmare, sort of. Actually, it was mostly Homer that had gone insane from what Marge had called "cabin fever."* Er, more of lack for TV and beer. But still.

And now, she assumed the same thing was happening with everybody else: island fever.

She was actually shocked she herself hadn't gotten it yet. You could see the signs in the other's faces starting just less than two days ago, after the bat incident had taken place. You could tell with how much time alone everybody needed away from one another, with the cold stares everybody would give everybody for no apparent reason at all.

The first person to snap, this morning, was Stephanie after Marge had basically stated how much she "approved" of her daughter's attitude. And that was the spark that started it all: after that little outburst, everybody began to chew out everyone.

Maggie had crawled under the table and away from it all, sitting and listening to everybody fight from her safe-haven behind the hut.

She now got up, peeking out from behind the corner of the supply hut and watching her fellow castaways.

Isabella and Gino were yelling insults at each other, for what she didn't even know the reason of. She thought it had something to do with "the blame game;" apparently Izzy had hidden his machete.

Mel and Cecil had already been arguing about the shipwreck, and now Marge had joined in as one of the outraged voices.

Finally, after Izzy and Gino's blame-game had died out, they turned to the bigger fight: the "Blame-Cecil-For-The-Shipwreck-Game."

Mel now pointed an accusing finger at Cecil, "It's _your_ fault we are shipwrecked!"

"I-I didn't know about the storm! I didn't even see any clouds in the sky!" He started to back into the wall of the opposite hut from where Maggie was standing, the island-fever slowly slipping away from its firm grasp on his mind; seeing that the accusations were now pointed towards _him_, and him alone.

"It's almost been an entire month away from my husband and children!" Marge cried out. "You _bastard!_ You just _had_ to cut the rope on the boat, didn't you?!"

"I'm sorry! It's not my fault!" Fear and guilt had now seeped into his eyes, Maggie saw, even from almost ten feet away.

"You ruined their lives!" Isabella cried out, not having any other crime to blame him for, "You murderer!"

He looked at her with self-pity. That last part hurt, coming from _her_. "What did _I_ ever do to _you?_ And it was _attempted_ murder! If you're referring to Eric, he killed _himself!_"

Gino pointed a short yet alleging finger at his uncle, "You took me away from my parents!"

He drew back from that one, guiltily, stepping right into Stephanie, who now decided to place her story in there. "You would've shot me at the dam!"

"Now, _you_ were running towards me, it was a reflex—" He was about two feet from running for cover from the cold, accusing eyes that troubled him so.

"Oh _sure_," She spat out, "Says the man who would've blown us up inside the dam _anyway!_"

"Well . . ."

_No, I can't cover up for that one._

Marge now grabbed him by the collar, eyes wide. "You almost _shot_ my _daughter?!"_

"Oh, so _now_ you care about that," Stephanie rolled her eyes. "When Bart and Lisa told you they almost got shot and exploded in a dam, you hugged _them_ for almost six Mississippi's and hugged me for only two and a half."

That caused the attention to be turned away from Cecil. Maggie watched him bolt into the jungle with a heavy heart.

* * *

It wasn't until two in the afternoon that anybody came back to the table—all of them with a guilty conscience. Though island fever had indeed taken over their tired minds, its leaving hadn't erased all of the accusations each and every single one of them had made towards each other.

Marge was the first to speak, "I don't think Cecil's coming back, so I might as well say it now," She scanned the forest lining, making sure his presence really wasn't there. None of them had seen him since that morning. "I literally cannot find any words to describe how guilty I feel. It's just—I'm just so homesick! More so than I've ever been in my entire _life!_"

"I have to agree with you there, Mom," Stephanie said, "Though I do feel like I got a lot off my back there." She grinned sheepishly, "I've been holding most of that stuff in since I was nine."

She smiled and grunted in agreement.

Without looking up from his hands, Mel said, "I heard a story about several people. Castaways, like us. The closest of friends, almost family. They had been stuck on a deserted island as well, nobody knowing the first thing about anybody, and through teamwork, they became inseparable. Absolutely _nothing_ could tear any of them apart, except, of course, the one enemy of man."

"The author of _Twilight_?" Gino guessed, remembering his dream.

"Nature?" Maggie asked.

"Justin Bieber?" Stephanie chuckled.

"Voodoo," Isabella took a stab.

"Time?" Marge said.

Mel chuckled at the voodoo part, but continued, "No, none of that. Their own worst enemy was themselves. And time, I suppose, yes. But soon they got to be sick of seeing the same faces every day, eating the same foods, drinking the same drinks, having little to no adventure in their daily lives, having absolutely no hope that they would be rescued anymore. They soon began to attack one another with their misery and complaints, and destroyed themselves." He leaned back into his chair with a sigh, "That almost happened today, with us."

Isabella sniffed, and said softly, "I called Cecil a murderer."

"I blamed him for the shipwreck," Mel put his head in his hands.

"I brought up the dam incident again. Though he _did_ almost shoot me."

"Stephanie," Marge said, "I think saving you from Eric was a big enough apology for that."

She shrugged.

"But I did call him a bastard," Marge rubbed her own shoulder.

Everybody looked at Maggie. She smiled sadly, "_I_ didn't do anything but watch you eat each other."

"Why weren't _you_ affected?" Mel raised an eyebrow in question. "Aren't you tired of it all?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. But I still have hope that we'll be rescued." She shrugged. "There's always hope. People can see this island as easily as we do, maybe there'll be a plane passing by one day and will see us. Troy McClure did and saw us, and landed here. I haven't given up yet, and though I miss everybody at home, this place has sort of grown on me. And I guess . . ." she looked down, smiling shyly, "I guess I've come to really like everybody on this island."

Gino grinned.

"Are you insane?" Stephanie shook her head, "I mean, I get where you're coming from with everybody growing on everybody. You've all taught me a lesson and I'll never forget any of you yada yada yada. But how can the island grow on you? No real food—I've come to hate all fruits and all sea food now—no friends or family, no new faces, no real adventures—"

"That's where you're wrong, I think," Maggie interrupted, "I mean, are you kidding? I've had possibly one of the best times of my life on this island! I may not have been the one who was kidnapped by a creepy stalker, but voodoo and magic! Producers and Broadway singing! Make-believe vampires! My first words were _Defying Gravity_! Cecil has been treating Isabella like his own daughter! Mel's discovered what he wants to do with his life! A deserted island all to ourselves! No enemies to deal with, no real hardships, no horrible jobs, it's _luxurious!_ I'm almost _happy_ we wrecked!"

Everybody thought about that.

Finally, Mel stood up, a grin spreading across his face. "It's all true," He laughed, "It's all _true!_ Even without our loved ones, each hardship we've dealt with has left us all a little closer. I propose a bright idea! Cecil isn't here, is he?"

Everybody looked around. He still wasn't anywhere in the camp area.

"Well, he's missed out on Maggie's speech! I suggest we throw a surprise party to make up for our harsh comments we threw at him earlier today. I think he deserves it."

Marge's face lit up. "Ooh! I completely forgot about this! There's a wild boar on the other side of the island! If we trap him that would be a _great_ treat from our everyday food!"

The children and Stephanie all grinned.

Marge stood up, "If somebody can come with me, I can use some help trapping the boar."

"I have been reading about something else that may catch our attention," Mel said, "But I'm going to need private time to get it on my own. Gino? Do you think you can help her? With the resources we already have, I think all you need is a shovel."

Gino's head bobbed up and down, smiling. They both got up, grabbed the shovel, and headed into the woods.

"And Isabella and Maggie can go pick wild berries and whatever else you can find for a good salad."

"Yes sir!" They both saluted, grabbed baskets, and headed into the woods.

"I guess that leaves us to find your "exotic food." What is it?" Stephanie stood along with Mel.

He grabbed a spare basket, certain he knew where the "exotic food" was growing. "You'll see when we find it."

* * *

Cecil adjusted his uncomfortable seat on the rock. He had wandered over to the beach, where the boat had crashed. At least, that's where he thought it was. There had been many storms on the island, and all of them causing the sea to suck in the poor, broken ship.

He traced the sand with his finger, having lost another round of Tic-Tac-Toe with himself, and got up.

_I guess I _should_ go back. But what if they're still…._

It was that thought alone that had caused him to stay on the rock for a good part of an hour now.

"Oh, but my _rump_ can't take it anymore!" He got up and stretched, then decided to wander along the paths in the forest.

Finally, he wandered to a some-what familiar spot in the forest, and decided to stop there. He sat down on a fallen tree, taking off his shoes and massaging the soles of his feet, and then—

"Hi!"

Cecil jumped and shrieked, turning around so sharply he felt something in his neck crack.

Marge stared back at him, smiling in amusement and pity. "Listen Cecil, we're all really sorry for what we said. We truly are."

He put his shoe back on and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. "Honestly? The only thing that hurt was Isabella calling me a murderer. It's a false fact and just reminds me of my own failures."

"Yeah, well. Listen, we were all just sick of each other. Island fever," She shrugged. "Anyway, I want to say sorry for calling you what I did, and accusing you of those—"

"It's fine, really. I've been called worse, and will most definitely be cussed out by my brother when we get back home."

Marge smiled. He hadn't said '_if_ we get back home.' He had said '_when_.' And, well, it was sort of funny to imagine Bob scolding his younger brother.

Cecil looked past her, and thought he saw the top of Gino's red spiky hair disappear into several bushes. "You didn't happen to bring Gino with you, did you?"

She blocked him from going into the woods, pushing him back into the tree. "Nope."

"But I just saw—"

"Nope."

He frowned slightly. "Then explain to me what I just-"

Both gasped as an arrow came whizzing into the tree, just a half inch away from hitting Cecil's neck.

He stared at Marge in shock, and thought he saw . . .

No. No, the frustration in her eyes had now turned into shock, the same as his. He wasn't even sure if he saw that look, seeing that it lasted for a split-second.

But as their tension went down, his went back up to see that the arrow was one that the castaways had made themselves, and had made _only_ for defending themselves against the _Marubi_ tribe.

_Did he just do what I thought he did?_

* * *

***- The THOH when the Simpsons have to take care of Mr. Burns' house for the winter, and he takes away the TV and beer. It's my personal favorite parody of **_**The Shining**_** there is (Groundskeeper Willie: You've got the Shinnin'! Bart: You mean **_**Shining**_**. Willie: Sh! Ya' wanna get sued? XD).**


	14. 2 After-Effects of Island Fever

Marge had thrown Cecil off of her by saying she wanted to "go for a swim."

She was a terrible liar.

Either way, he had gotten back onto a trail from her directions, and was now standing in a clearing. There was a large pond making up a good part of the clearing, and a large rock formation towering over the whole thing.

_I'm near the volcano, aren't I?_

The palms limited his view, but he was pretty sure that if they weren't there, you could break your neck by just trying to see all the way up there.

_Maybe not. I could very well just be near a hill. Ah, what the hell. I'm lost._

He cupped his hands together, ready to call out for basically anybody who could hear him, and heard a sudden sharp _CRACK_ ring through the air.

Then, he turned around just as a boulder nearly his size broke through the tree line, rolling faster than his brain could realize what he did—Cecil's reflexes kicked in, and he hurdled himself to the left.

The rock rolled past where he was standing, continuing into the forest.

He got up, shakily peering through the hole the boulder made. There was indeed a hill, with a small ledge on top. And on that ledge, Cecil thought he saw—

"_No_," His eyes widened. Due to perspective, he couldn't see anything else, but what he saw was the top of Mel's hair, bone and all.

_Mel pushed it. He deliberately tried to kill me._

Cecil stumbled a bit more through the clearing, heading back into the scenery, and back into the woods.

* * *

Isabella and Maggie were giggling when they turned a corner around a bush and saw Cecil on the other side.

Izzy smiled. "Hello, sir."

His head snapped to her in surprise, then his eyes softened some. "Sir? As much as I appreciate that, it makes me feel older than I honestly want to be."

The girls smiled. Maggie looked at him, "You aren't still feeling the island fever in there, are ya?"

He put his hands in his pocket and began to walk towards them, "Ah, no. I believe that went out of me when I was accused of crashing us onto this island and being a murderer."

Isabella blushed furiously.

He stopped and pointed an accusing finger in both girls' faces, "I'll have you know that I am _not_ a murderer, and it is _not_ my fault that those door-to-door salesmen shattered like Tiffany Crystal when dipped into liquid nitrogen."

They now began to giggle nervously.

Izzy backed up a step, dragging Maggie with her, "I'm sorry, we've gotta go."

"What for?" He didn't follow them.

"We've gotta get these berries back to camp." Maggie blurted.

He frowned. "Why the rush?"

"Uh, the—eeh—ah, we-we're making, uh, poison." She said.

His eyebrow went up. "_Why?_ And who taught you how to do _that?_"

"Mommy said that we needed to bring back these _poisonous_ berries to bring back to camp for them to make _poison_ out of. Yeah, that's reasonable enough. Bye!" Both broke out into a run, leaving Cecil feeling like there was something missing from this picture . . .

_My murder, perhaps?_

* * *

As they had said, everybody (aside from Cecil) was in the supply hut. Mel was cleaning what looked like mushrooms in their make-believe sink, the girls were making fruit punch out of half of the berries, and Stephanie and Gino were making fruit salad in a bowl big enough for Maggie to take a bath in from the other half.

Marge smiled. "Do you really think he'll be surprised?"

Stephanie smirked. "No, we think he already knows _everything_ that we've been up to, including the _astounding_ way Mel almost flattened him into paper out of that big boulder he pushed at Cecil right below the hill. _Great_ job, Mel!" She slapped him on the back.

He jutted out his chin. "Well, I'm sorry for not seeing him behind that tree-line! You could have pointed him out yourself, dear. Unless we only wanted fruit and that boar Marge and Gino were supposed to trap, these are mushrooms that are supposed to be exquisite when properly cooked, growing only under large rock formations such as that one. But he _shouldn't_ know, unless a certain somebody told him!"

Everybody turned to Isabella. She raised her hands, "What? You know how well I can keep a secret!"

Gino rolled his eyes. "That's why we worry."

"Mm!" Stephanie said, "Where _is_ that boar you guys were supposed to trap and kill?"

Marge spoke up, "We have him trapped, but not dead."

Just beside the supply hut, Cecil stumbled through the tree-line. He heard the voices in the supply hut, and couldn't help but overhear the conversation that ensued.

From below the windowsill.

He heard Marge saying, "I didn't have the heart to kill him, and Gino used our last arrow. And _missed_," She said pointedly. "It _almost_ hit _Cecil!_"

He shrugged. "My aim may be off after a month on this island. You have not let me practice often."

Cecil leaned up, peeking into the hut. Mel had a butcher knife in his hand, running his finger over the sharp end. "Well then? Who's gonna kill him?"

Nobody spoke up. "Oh, c'mon. Marge? Isa-"

"You might as well just rule out all of us, Mel." Marge said.

Isabella and Maggie were holding their throats, a very traumatized look on their faces.

"Stephanie?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding me?! I'm tough, but I don't kill pigs unless they're trying to kill me first. Or any other self-defense mode."

Cecil frowned at that remark.

Mel looked hopefully at Gino.

"Not unless I swear vendetta against it. And that is only when it has tried to bring me or my family harm. That thing has not brought me or my family harm."

Now Cecil was just downright insulted.

"Well?" Mel ran his finger against the knife again, "_Somebody's_ got to kill that old boar."

"Aw, but _why?_" Maggie whined.

"Because of we don't, he may attack us first. God knows what else he's done . . ."

Cecil retreated back to his hut.

* * *

He left the note (stating he was onto them with the murder) on the door and fled into the shadows of the trees, only with a fedora and a small sack of clothes to protect him for now. He brought one of the machetes just for protection.

_I'll be damned if they kill me without a fight!_

However, he _had_ skipped breakfast. And lunch. He was sure all of them had.

He stopped in yet another clearing, one he had never seen before, only because it had a banana tree and a log in it. Sand in-between.

He sat down on the log and began eating, setting down his "hiking stick" he had picked up into the sand. Soft sand. Incredibly soft sand.

Cecil dropped the empty banana peel behind the log and got up, eyeing the make-shift hiking stick. It was sinking.

"Quicksand . . ." He realized. Cecil smiled, taking off his hat and placing the light mass of fabric on the very top of the sand. It didn't sink.

_You wanted me dead, anyway . . ._

He got up and began to run, hearing voices calling his name in the distance getting closer by the second.

And, soon enough, Mel did lead the others into the small clearing. He took one step into the quicksand before realizing what it was, and what lay on the surface of it.

He quickly withdrew his foot, placing a hand over his mouth. Behind him, everyone gasped as they too saw the hat.

Marge pushed herself to the front, and walked around the muck to the hat. She picked it up and looked up, "Stephanie, get the kids outta here. Please."

"But-"

"_Please_."

"But what about his _body,_ Mom?"

"I'm afraid we probably won't even be able to get his body out," Mel said. "These pits can be pretty abyssal, and . . . oh-ho-ho _gawd_," He rubbed his face before composing himself. "But if he sank in this, then we probably won't be finding his body anytime soon. If-if _ever_."

Stephanie ushered the children back to camp. Nobody spoke.

Cecil watched all of this from atop the branches of a tree with a mad eye.

_Try to kill me NOW, you—!_

But his face softened when he heard a sob echo through the forest. Marge and Mel looked back and grimaced at Isabella's echoing sobs.

"It'll kill her and Gino," Mel said softly. "We can arrange for his funeral when we've all gotten our wits together."

"_No!_" She scrambled up, facing him, "No. Today. We'll have it today."

He nodded. They went back to camp, teary-eyed.

Cecil realized he had been unconsciously holding his breath, and let it go, climbing down the tree after he had counted to fifty.

_Sure, Isabella may get sad. Shed a few tears. As I myself did at my brother's fake funeral. So did Gino. We shed a lot of tears then. But they were fake. They were all fake._

But he did want to see what they had in store for his "funeral."

* * *

Since there wasn't a body, they instead used the hat they found and set it on top of a mini-mountain cascade of flowers.

Mel stood sadly in front of the crowd, who were all dressed in black. "Dearly beloved, we all gather here today to pay our respects for Cecil Terwilliger, a hardened criminal in Springfield, but a well-respected man on the island…"

Cecil was sitting on a tree branch a few feet away from the gathering, with an amused face and a raised eyebrow.

"…And we all hope you're living a better life, Cecil," Mel looked down, "down there."

"How dare you!" Isabella shouted between sobs.

"I didn't mean it in _that_ way! I was referring to the quicksand, Izzy."

When Mel was done with what he thought was the opener for the funeral, he turned to the group. They were all crying, aside from Stephanie, who was looking down numbly. His own lip began to tremble. "Oh, damn it all! He became my _best friend!_"

Marge rubbed her eyes. "He was mine too!"

"He saved me from Eric," Stephanie mumbled, "And I guess he did also give my acting a compliment. First person to say that in a _long_ time, at least from what I remember."

"He was like a _father_ to me!" Izzy sobbed.

"He was like a second father to me!" Maggie cried.

Gino sniffled, "He was like an _uncle_ to me!"

As they all sat there sniffling, Cecil teared up as well. "They don't want to kill me," He said softly. "Th-they…_love_ me?"

Just as the words came out of his mouth, the branch he was sitting on broke. He fell to the ground with a loud _thud_.

Everybody gasped, running over to him.

The first being Isabella, who literally jumped into his arms, sobbing. "You big _meanie!_ How could you _do_ that to us?!"

Needless to say, he got a fair amount of love and hugs that day. Even though Isabella never let go of his neck.

As well as the surprise "Welcome Back to the land of the Living" party. Fortunately enough, the "old boar" got to live, since nobody had the heart to kill it.

* * *

**To wrap it all up: everything went back to normal after they explained how all of those incidents were really accidents.**

**Peace to the world, though that'll probably never happen!**


	15. 1 Vegetables, Ma!

**Pass the Vegetables, Please**: While fishing in the lagoon, Gilligan snags onto a wooden crate that holds vegetable seeds. When planted, they grow at a miraculous rate. But, like every good thing that happens to them, there's a catch.

* * *

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

_**Stephanie's POV**_

Today marks the one-month anniversary of our wreck. I thought we would be rescued by the first few days, but _no_, we got to stay here and miss _meat_ and _cereal_ and _vegetables_ and _drinks_—well, aside from well-water and coconut milk. And some other fruit juices we got to mixing up.

Dad's boat had arrived three days after school got out, in May, the same day of the storm. It was now nearing the end of June.

But, as I carried some firewood back to camp, I saw something on the lagoon beach. I dropped the wood as I realized it was a crate.

_Yes!_ Maybe it had _real_ food inside!

I used the sharp end of a stick to open the top, and saw something just as good as that: seeds. Vegetable seeds. I did a fist pump in the air, already calling out for the others.

* * *

Everybody followed the two men as they opened the box again, now taking out the seeds.

Mel held up several packets, laughing, "Cucumbers, spinach, carrots—"

"Zucchini!" Isabella exclaimed.

"Sugar beets, string beans," Marge said.

"Tomatoes," Gino said.

"_Po_tatoes," Maggie added.

"Yeah, yeah," Stephanie said, "Point being: how quickly will these grow without taking up the whole summer?"

"Well," Marge said, "I've heard that plants do grow well in sand. But they do need dirt," she added, "It's supposed to be a mixture, I believe."

"We plant them _now_," Stephanie laughed, "I'm sick of nothing but fruits and seafood. No matter how long it takes them to grow, the sooner they're done the better."

And so they did. There were plenty of clearings; the castaways chose the one closest to the main clearing. Everybody had chipped in, helping plant and water the precious seeds. By the end of the day, they had planted every seed type into different rows.

They went to bed that night, exhausted from the work, all with the same thought: _now all there is to do is wait._

* * *

_The next morning_

Mel yawned, and hopped off of his "bed," getting dressed and going out to breakfast.

"Astounding!" Cecil exclaimed. "They're simply astounding!"

"What are?" Mel asked, sitting down.

"The vegetables!" Marge said, "They've grown! A _lot!_"

He smirked. "I'm sure they have. We did remember to weed them, didn't we? What you saw could very easily have been—"

"No. No, no no! They've grown over two inches!"

"Well then. I'm going to go check on these "miraculous" seeds," Mel said, getting up, "There's no possible way you are correct in their growth spurt!"

Marge turned to him with a tired smile on her face, "Stephanie's over there now. Even she can vout for us, they _aren't_ weeds!"

"Well, I'm going over there anyway," He marched off into the woods, and immediately heard someone singing.

"_In the court yard, she used to sing as loud as she could."_

He arrived at the garden, just a bush away from figuring out the singer's identity—but he liked the voice. It wasn't too strong, it was just a simple melody with a voice that sounded like it was doing something else besides singing.

"_Locked away here, she's been quiet, lovely and good. But no one listens now! She lost her voice, she had no choice!"_

Mel cleared away the foliage. Stephanie was the one singing, watering the vegetables.

* * *

"_If you sing loud and clear—someone passing by will surely hear you. No you can't be afraid—if you want somebody ever near you."*_

I stopped singing and started humming the tune.

Mel stepped out of the bushes. "That was lovely, Stephanie."

I whirled around, and sneered. "Shouldn't normal people have different things to do other than waiting behind a tree and listening to somebody sing?"

He shrugged. "I'm not normal. I have a bone in my hair. Where was the song from?"

I paused, frowning. "A dream I had last night. This girl was singing to a creepy guy. Actually, he was _very_ creepy. He had basically demanded she sing for him, like an ultra too-sweet-for-her-own-good bird in a cage and Sylvester the Cat." I shrugged and turned back to watering the plants, "But the song's catchy."

"I suppose so, yes." He walked around me, inspecting the plants and mumbling to himself.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, withholding laughter. His eyes were widened and this basic look of shock on his face almost looked cartoony.

"Unbelievable," He muttered.

"Believable," I stated back.

"Incredible!"

"Realistic."

"Astounding," He said louder this time.

"Dull."

He frowned at me. "Do you realize what this means for science around the world?"

"No. Do you?"

"Well—n-not quite, no."

"Then I guess we're even." I went back to watering the tomatoes, realized I was done, and set down the empty watering can to go to breakfast.

"But in one night!" He went on about more plant and science life.

Basically, I stopped listening and walked away (to the end of the clearing). It took him a full minute before he realized I wasn't there anymore.

We walked back to the breakfast table. Isabella, Maggie and Gino were gone, either butterfly hunting or picking more stinking berries.

I sneered at the fruit bowl in front of me.

"Mmmm, what's wrong, sweetie?" Mom asked.

I ignored the name, but answered, "For a full month, I've had nothing but fruit, berries, and fish."

"Well," Cecil said, "we can change that."

I gave him a look. "Vegetables won't be done for a while, even if they're growing this quick."

He smiled and sat up straight, speaking in a French accent. "Well, for ze special mademoiselle, we have rocks, roots, and seaweed. Or, if you prefer, we have seaweed, roots, and rocks."

I blinked at the joke, then smiled. "Vell then, I believe I shall take ze secon' special." I stopped speaking in the accent, "Add some hamburgers to that, while you're at it."

Everybody groaned at that, remembering vividly the sweet taste of a good, fattening American meal.

But hey! It was the sweet taste of a good, fattening American meal!

* * *

**Sorry, this one may need to be a three parter again, unless I can get the second half shortened. :P Really bad case of writer's block, whaddya gonna do? I think I'm getting out of it though! :)**

***- Emilie Autumn's **_**Rapunzel**_**.**


	16. 2 Vegetables, Ma!

**This should help clear out some stuff that will be mentioned later on in this chapter:**

**Zucchini**: These play a role in aging and various disease processes.

**Carrots**: eyesight

**Spinach**: strength

**Sugar beets**: the benefit is in the name.

**Peppers**: weight loss

* * *

Within two more days, the miraculous vegetables grew to be ready to eat.

_Within two days_.

But hey, that was just our first clue to what would happen next. The second were the _shapes_ of them all!

I picked a corn from its stalk. Instead of being straight, the whole thing was like a giant ring. "Uh . . . you don't need to be an egghead to know that this is _not_ what corn looks like!"

I put it over my head so that it hung there like a necklace.

Isabella held up a green bean. It was twisted, and strongly resembled a pretzel. "I wonder if these grew with salt . . ." She took a bite. "Nope. Just needs soy sauce."

Mom held up a carrot that had three tips. "If Isabella doesn't pass out within the next thirty minutes, I think we can eat them . . ."

"I bet it's just the salt water's effect on the seeds." Mel took a small nibble off of a donut-shaped tomato. "They taste the same. I doubt that there is anything off about them besides the shapes."

Maggie held up a cucumber that was larger than her head. My own jaw dropped at the size of a zucchini, which was bigger than my own _arm_.

"And size . . ."

* * *

The castaways had placed out the huge buffet of "mutant" vegetables (the zucchini was sauteed), and turned on the radio.

"Pass the spinach—_grazi_."

"Gino," Cecil laughed, "That's your fourth helping!"

"Sixth. I snuck two."

"Gino," Isabella said, "You are the _only_ boy I've met who likes spinach."

"Why don't we just keep our favorite vegetables closest to us?" Marge said, "Either way, somebody please pass the sugar beets!"

"Carrots for me!" Maggie chirped, gratefully accepting the bowlful.

"_Zucchini!_" Isabella sang.

"I'll take some peppers," Stephanie said.

They were all passed around, and enjoyed. Until the radio crackled, and Kent Brockman said the following message that sent dread to all of the castaways:

"_Emergency broadcast! Emergency broadcast! A rogue team of scientists that were working on an important "useless food experiment" have lost an entire crateful of genetically mutated vegetable seeds. Yes, those idiots just lost the whole thing when they were being shipped overseas during a rogue storm. How the heck that happened, we'll just assume—hey!" _He said to somebody not quite so off of the microphone, "_No matter how common these situations are, we still need to act like they're a big deal, Brandy!"_

Someone said something to him that couldn't be made out.

"_What if somebody grows and eats those? They could die or something!" _He paused_, "Oh. This just in: the seeds aren't deadly, but haven't been proved to NOT be, either. Nobody's experimented on them yet, so we don't know what the heck they can do. We'll let you all know when we know. Now, back to your music, and have a great day!"_

Everybody spat out the food that was in their mouths, now appalled.

"Wait!" Mel said, "We-we don't know if these are the same seeds—"

"Oh, _sure!_" Stephanie said, "And I bet we don't know a tree from a deadly _crateful of genetically mutated seeds!"_

"_You_ were the one who found it!"

"Well, _you're_ the one who opened it!"

"Hey," Marge snapped, "_Nobody_ knew. The crate didn't have the words "_warning: mutant seeds_" on the cover. Besides, Isabella ate a green bean, and she didn't drop."

Izzy slumped into her chair, lips pursed.

"But that was just a bite," Gino said, "What can an entire buffet do to us?"

Nobody answered.

* * *

I sighed, and stopped pacing. What would be the effects of those vegetables?

There was a log right next to me. I sat down, staring out at sea. Then I got up and started pacing again. My body started tingling—as in the whole thing was almost _vibrating_.

"_Crap_. So this is what it's like to die, huh? Well, I'll just have to go back to the mainland and haunt Bart and Lisa. After eating a cheeseburger in Heaven, hold the vegetables. Maybe taking a visit to Sasha's place after scaring the family half to death. Or Azure. Maybe just all of them while I'm at it."

Then, I looked down at my body and gasped. It . . . I just couldn't describe it. I started running back to the clearing, ignoring the tingling feeling. I _had_ to make it back, I _had_ to!

* * *

Meanwhile, Maggie ran up to Mel and Cecil, pointing to the shoreline. "There's a boat! There's a boat _right out there!_" She cried out.

"What?!" Both exclaimed, "Where?!"

Cecil looked out at sea, where Maggie was pointing. "But there's nothing there."

"No, no no. It's big and white, how can you not see it?"

Mel frowned. "Maggie, are you feeling alright?"

"Ye—" She sighed, "I'm not crazy. Look, I'll prove it." She looked out to sea. "There's a big white boat, with red trim. On the side, it says 'S.S. Mainland Shores.' There're five people on board. Two are an old couple, I think married, they're holding hands and kissing. One's a big, fat, bald man in a blue Hawaiian T-shirt. And . . . I think my Aunts Patty and Selma."

Cecil frowned, and picked her up. "It may be the side effects of the . . ." He grimaced, and said softly, "Why don't you lay down for a while? I'll get your mother and sister, we'll all—"

"I'm not imaging it! I can see it as plain as I can see Mel's book on that rock over there!"

Mel frowned. "That book is on top of the hill. How can you see it from here?"

She squinted her eyes. "It's saying, 'The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns, that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make . . . It goes on."

Both men were shocked, especially Mel. "You . . . you read my copy of Hamlet. From here. It—the book's on the _hill_."

"Yeah, and the ship's out _there_," She pointed.

He shook his head. "Incredi—ooh." He face-palmed. "You ate almost all of those mutated carrots, did you not?"

"Yes."

"Carrots," Cecil said, "are good for the eyes. _They_ must be how you can see so far."

"Huh," Mel said.

"What?" Maggie looked at him.

"Ah, probably nothing. Your mother ate all of those sugar beets. I wonder what effect they had on her?"

* * *

Izzy was lying down in her hut, fixated on Marge's cleaning skills.

Firstly, it was like watching an old cartoon. In super-fast motion. Marge went over to each bed and made them in two seconds flat each, arranged some of their decorations, and fluffed several pillows before Izzy had to say something.

"Marge, you're making me exhausted by just watching you. Take a lunch break, will ya?"

That was the only time she paused, "Ooh, good idea!"

She then went to the table in the center of the room, and started eating a mango. She finished in about seven seconds, and got up, and ran out the door and into the clearing.

Bewildered and very much confused, Izzy got up and watched Marge literally run in circles around the table, hop over a few chairs, and into the woods.

* * *

Mel and Cecil started a fire just as Gino came up. "Isn't it a little hot to build a fire?"

"It's for the boat out there," Cecil pointed.

"What boat?! . . . I don't see it!"

"Neither can we."

"Then how do you know it eez out there?"

"Long story leading up to the mutated seeds. Could you please go get some more firewood for us so we can keep this up?"

He nodded, and went over to a fallen tree, with a bunch of partially-dead branches still attached.

He then began to break them off, one by one, making a small stack beside his body. And then he picked up the entire tree. With one hand.

Mel looked at him and nudged Cecil. Both went over to the young boy, who was currently grinning wickedly.

"Gino," Cecil said, "how did you—oh. It must be dead. It is, isn't it?"

Gino's grin only grew wider when Cecil attempted to pick up the tree, grunting as he attempted to do so. He looked at the boy, flabbergasted. "How the heck did you pick that up?"

"Spinach!" Mel exclaimed. "You ate six and a half helpings of the stuff. It makes you strong. Incredibly strong in this case," he laughed.

Gino laughed, "That eez what I had come over here to tell you about. I tossed a coconut to Marge a few minutes ago and it nearly took off her head. Good thing too, it almost slowed her down for a split second before she ran off in a different direction."

Cecil crossed his arms. "Well then. Go ahead, get some more firewood."

Maggie came up to them, disappointment showing in her eyes. "You can forget the fire. The boat's gone."

Everybody did a face-palm as Stephanie came up, gasping. Everybody else gasped as well when they saw her.

"I-I don't even know how . . ." She trailed off.

"My _god_," Mel breathed.

Stephanie had almost shrunk. Not by height, exactly, but in weight. Definitely in weight. Her waist was almost thinner than a palm tree, and arms like sticks. The face was flushed from the running, and cheeks sunken in some.

"I've shrunk since I first saw it, but I think that's because I was running," she said, "It tingles more when I move."

"So why the hell did you move?!" Cecil exclaimed, going over to her.

"I was in the middle of the forest! Nobody would have heard me call out but monkeys and fruit flies."

Everybody crowded around her.

"On the bright side, I'm the skinniest girl in school now—stop staring! I feel fine."

"You're the skinniest girl on the island as well," Mel said, "Are you sure? You look . . . Well, you don't look _good_."

She rolled her eyes. "No kidding, huh?"

"Why didn't you just walk back to camp?"

"Because I lost, like, fifty pounds by just pacing. Trust me, I've only lost a couple from running. And I _was_ going back to camp, until I heard voices over _here_. It's a lot closer than the clearing."

"So what did you think we'd do?" Cecil asked, "We're just finding out what those vegetables can really do. And the peppers you ate."

"Weight loss," Mel nodded.

She smirked and held out her arms, "I figured you could carry me back to camp like the royalty I am!" They dropped to her side when she finished the sentence.

"Well, we may just have to," Mel said, "Or Gino could."

Her smirk went down as well. "Wait a sec. I was totally joking about that."

"Do you have anything better? Besides literally wearing yourself down to your muscles and bones by just walking a few paces?"

She hesitated and sighed, and held out her arms again, crying out in an exaggerated tone, "Carry me like royalty!"

* * *

All of the castaways were seated at the table, aside from Mel and Cecil. They were flipping through the two Hawaiian books Marge had on the boat (just in case the family would use their new boat for a tropical cruise). Stephanie was eating sliced up pineapple bits, trying to gain a few pounds, if not at least ounces.

"What I would do for a nice, fattening American meal right now," She muttered.

Mel and Cecil came out of the supply hut; Mel was carrying a plate of soap while Cecil held a page in one of the two books.

Mel plopped the plate on the table, and let the other man speak, "We have…ah, discovered a way to cure this situation." He shifted and crossed his arms, obviously annoyed at what he was saying, "We have to," he sighed, "_eat. Soap_."

"What?!" Everyone exclaimed, with an equal amount of shock.

"The radioactive gas will be released by the soap bubbles. Don't ask us how we came up with such a _grand_ cure. Even then, eating soap in large quantities will _still_ make us sick, so—"

"Shut up!" Mel hit him with his elbow, "The soap _will_ absorb the radioactivity, which, as of right now, is our only cure. If anyone has anything better, than please. Speak up."

* * *

. . . I didn't want to, but I _really_ didn't want to become a living stick figure (even though Isabella took a picture of me with Mom's camera—weird, right?). But when we started eating the soap, and Gino opened his mouth to spit out his fourth bite, _bubbles_ came out.

We did end up having a lot of fun making mouth bubbles, the younger ones especially when they figured out the bubbles floated. Even though it was sort of gross, since the bubbles _did_ contain the nuclear gases and such from the vegetables.

But despite the horrible taste of the mango-scented soap bars, the actual mango scent (that would linger through the clearing for a few days) smelled pretty nice.

And we did end up going back to normal. After that night, I lost the stick-shape figure. Maggie couldn't see twenty miles ahead of the island anymore. Even though Mom crashed severely after the sugar high, she didn't qualify for the Olympics anymore. And Gino could no longer lift an entire tree.

So, we were all okay. Everything returned to normal, at least for a deserted island . . . And we all learned to NOT eat anything that washes up on shore. Ever. A lesson well-learned, too.

* * *

**This was a lot longer than I had anticipated . . . But I didn't want to cut it up into another three-parter, because it isn't **_**that**_** long. **

**Until next time, I'll be writing the next chapter! And even then, I'll probably be writing the second part!**


	17. 1 Million Dollar Hunt

**The Hunter:** Gilligan is the new target of an eccentric game-hunter. If he can survive 24 hours without being killed, he's the winner.

* * *

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

The helicopter landed on the beach, just outside of the lagoon. Isabella and Mel watched them land, running over to the two men who got out. Izzy screaming, "We're rescued! We're rescued!" She then stopped, her broad grin going all the way down. "Shoot. _We're rescued_," She said this spitefully and sadly.

One of the men was wearing a plain hunting jacket, with a light brown fedora and jeans the same color. He had on large boots, and a sack slung over his shoulder. The other man wore the same jeans and boots, but only a button-down T-shirt and no hat. He was shaved bald, and looked a bit like one of the natives from around the islands.

The one in the fedora spoke first, reaching his hand out to shake Mel's. "Hello. My name is Aboomb. Justin Aboomb."

"And I am Melvin Van Horne," He said, "and this is Isabella Heart." He gestured to Izzy.

"Are you two the only ones on this island?"

"No," Izzy answered, "There are seven of us in all. We're shipwrecked on this island, can you call somebody from the mainland to come pick us up?"

"Ah, all in good time, my dear. And pray tell, is there any game on this island?"

"Sure, we have checkers, chess, somebody brought a pack of cards—"

"He meant," Mel nudged her, "hunting game." He turned to Justin, "What kind of game are you looking for?"

"Wild boars, perhaps? I know that this one may not be too likely, but fox? Do you have any of those?"

"Eh—not anymore, no. We have found traces that there used to be wild boar, but somebody," he winced, remembering Eric, "has wiped them off. There was one left, but he disappeared."

"Ah."

"Our camp is literally right across this line of trees here," he pointed to the tree line directly behind the beach, "So it wouldn't be too far a trip if you were to visit us. But I would prefer it if you follow us—"

"We need to tell everybody you're here!" Izzy exclaimed. She grabbed onto Mel's hand, pulling him to camp.

When they were out of earshot, Justin turned to his unannounced associate and said, "Fascinating, Caleb—seven castaways on a deserted island, and nobody knows they're here . . . Let's go hunting."

Caleb turned to him questioningly, "What do you mean? You heard them, there is no game here."

"I mean this: I have hunted all of the best game there is, with the best hunters in the world. But I have always wondered what it would be like to hunt the most challenging game of all: man. Who can say that they have hunted this rare game?"

* * *

All four people were back at camp, and the rest of the 'castaways' joined as Justin and Caleb were introduced.

Justin had his arms behind his back and smiled at them all. "I have called the airline and explained why nine people can't fit in a helicopter. So I gave them our exact position, and they'll be here with a boat tomorrow morning. Around ten or eleven."

Everybody cheered.

"The first thing I'll do when we get back is give Homey and Bart adn Lisa the biggest hugs…!"

"I'll tell everybody," Maggie said, "that I can talk now."

"I'll most likely spend _my_ first day tending to the broken nose Bob will give me."

Stephanie grinned wickedly, "I'll be more than happy to just sit back and listen to a plane go by, and all the voices of people I've never noticed before talking about how 'exciting' it is to see us again. And definitely pay my friends a visit."

"I will spend the day with my family," Gino grinned.

Isabella shrugged. "I'll follow one of you people home like a stalker, because I won't have one anymore."

Cecil lifted her up and smiled, as everybody started heading back to their huts and packing.

"I'll quit that infernal sideshow job for Krusty and move on with my life!" Mel vowed, a small smile creeping up on his face.

"Hey, I thought I knew you from somewhere!" Justin exclaimed, "I love that show!"

"Have you heard anything about Krusty, speaking of him? Oh, that's right. He's still on that cruise, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's been keeping the show up from there. Said that you were taking a vacation."

He pursed his lips, almost smiling. "He promised to take me on that cruise, and left me at the dock with the Simpsons. It all went downhill from there."

"Ah, that's a bloody shame. I take it you're pretty upset, right?"

"Upset enough to quit," He assured, and went back to his hut.

Once again, Justin and Caleb were alone. "So, Justin? Which one should it be? Marge, Stephanie? One of the younger children? They'd be especially hard to catch, you know."

"No, no. I wouldn't be able to shoot a child! I'm not THAT sick, man! No, I want someone who has had experience in the art of survival. Someone who's agile, athletic, has quick reflexes. Now, who do you think has all of these qualities?"

Caleb shrugged. "Children."

He sighed, "No, someone with _experience_. That sideshow seems like our best choice so far. Maybe the other man, Cecil. We'll just have to question them both to find out."

* * *

Justin went into Cecil's hut first. The sack that had been slung around his shoulder was now opened, with the main content in his hands: the rifle gun.

Cecil and Gino were packing, though neither had much to go on, considering the fact they didn't exactly _bring_ anything in the first place. Even with Isabella's father's belongings.

"Eh," Justin said, "You boys need any help?"

"Oh, no thank you." Cecil tied shut his own sack, that mainly consisted of the things he brought with him when he thought everybody on the island was homicidal. And some extras. "We prefer to travel lightly."

"And with a knife." Gino grinned, holding up his beloved machete.

Cecil eyed the rifle in Justin's hands, which earned a whole-hearted laugh. "Go ahead," he held it out, "just don't shoot off anything. You ever had any experience?"

"Yes, though my expertise lies with dynamite and hand pistols."

He was honestly shocked at this remark. "Se-seriously?"

"Oh yes," he nodded, pointing the rifle out the window, "I was Springfield's chief hydrological and hydrodynamic engineer of the oncoming Springfield dam," He announced this proudly, "Even if that gaggle of slack-jawed yokels kept using up all of my dynamite, you'd be shocked at how easy it is to mix and make your own. Not too many people know that the makings of dynamite lie just in front of them, in their own homes!"

Justin decided not to take the chance of dealing with this man and his explosives first-hand.

_No. I think it'll be Sideshow Mel._

* * *

Mom and I finished hanging the poster over the supply hut just as Justin and Caleb arrived. Our poster read:

FAREWELL,

OUR ISLAND

We all shouted bits and pieces of celebration sayings when Justin came up to the table; I said, "Here's our guest of honor! At least _he's_ cool enough to not yell at us for food!" I was referring to our last guest on the island, Troy McClure, of course.

We all started ranting, "Speech! Speech! Speech!" for him—well, we were so excited we were going to leave the island, and he was going to take us back, and we would finally be able to see society again!

"Thank you, thank you." Caleb stayed behind us as Justin came up. "I could just stand here and blabber on and on about how happy I am for you all, but I want to announce something. I have chosen one of you to go on a hunting trip with me."

"But there isn't any game on this island," I said. "Maybe a few monkeys and parrots, but no actual game. And that's just sick, anyway."

Everybody murmured in agreement.

"Well, that's where you're wrong. You see—"

"Didja find that boar that disappeared?" Izzy interrupted, "Because we don't know what happened to him."

"You interrupted me. You're wrong, because I just plan on hunting one of you."

I felt goose bumps form on the back of my neck when he gave us all a big grin after that. I'm certain everybody else did, too.

"Hey," Isabella said, "that's pretty funny. He even has a big . . . rifle . . . gun—ooh."

"Ah-are you _serious?!_" I exclaimed.

His grin went down as Mom got in front of Maggie and I.

I let her, because he had a _rifle_ out! "You can't be serious! People don't hunt people! It's inhumane and morally wrong!"

"If that is a joke," Cecil said, "it is in the _worst_ sense of taste."

"Sir," Justin said, "I assure you. This is no joke."

"You mean to tell us," Mel said, "that you are going to hunt and shoot one of us down in cold blood?"

I grabbed Izzy from in front of me and handed her to Cecil.

"I couldn't have said it any better myself," He said.

"You sick freak of nature!" I cried out, "Just so you know, we've _all_ had experience with weapons of choice, _and_ know this island better than the backs of our own hands!"

"Yes, but I'm the one with the gun. And Caleb's right behind all of you," Justin smirked, making me sneer. "I'll give the one I'm hunting a total of athirty minute head-start. If he or she isn't caught by me within twenty-four hours, I'll see to it that you all get back to civilization. If that particular person is _unlucky_ . . . Maybe I'll decide I didn't get the full thrill of the hunt."

"So who is it?" Mel asked.

Justin pointed the gun to Mom first. She gasped, "But I'm a wife and the mother of four children!"

"I can see two of them right now."

He next pointed the gun at me. I sneered at him and said, "Just. You. _TRY _it." Hey, even if I didn't want anybody else to go,_ I_ didn't want to either!

It landed on Cecil next. He gave a small smile, "Ah-ha! You've never heard of my family!" His smile disappeared as he gave the deathly glare Bob did to Bart when he was in 'the stabby mood.' "_I'll see to it you remember our name._"

"At least I'm humane enough to give you a fighting chance. And not choose any of the children."

Well, at least I'm not considered a kid anymore. But that only left one choice, and we all stared at the deathly-still man.

I saw Izzy's features drop into unbearable pity. "Oh, Mel . . ."

Both men had a stare-down, until at last Justin spoke, "Caleb—take him away. I want to start this before noon tomorrow."

Mel took a step forward, holding up a fist. "Now wait just a—"

We all heard the click of Caleb's gun.

He dropped his arm and sighed, but glared at Justin. "I'll see to it _you_ _yourself_ won't survive tomorrow!"

Caleb led him out of the clearing, with Justin following close behind. The only reason why I didn't tackle that bastard to the ground was because that rifle wasn't just aimed at me.

As soon as they left, Cecil turned to us. "Well, now I know what it felt like at the dam."

I smirked. "Yeah, not so fun, is it?"

"As soon as the coast is clear, I'm going to get to their helicopter and radio for help!"

"Hey," Justin stepped back into the clearing, "If any wise-guy decides to mess around with my helicopter, you can forget it." He held out the sparkplugs. "You won't even be able to get static."

Crap.

This time, we went into the supply hut. "Well, that plan's down the drain," Mom said, "We'll set traps out in the forest, then. And Cecil, Gino," she eyed them both, "Feel free to put the kill-my-family touch on the traps you build. Just without anybody actually killing my family."

"I like that plan!" I exclaimed.

_Aim a gun at ME, will ya?!_

And not just me, either. I didn't want to go back to civilization _without_ anybody we came here with, especially with how cool everybody's been to each other.

So, step one: spend all night planning and setting traps for Justin.

* * *

**I got inspiration for this on Sunday, and finished it a day later. Though I've wanted to write out this one for a while now, it's still a record for me. XD **

**And now: I'll go to bed and start part two tomorrow!**


	18. 2 Million Dollar Hunt

**Okay, so I've gotta work on my deadlines. :P Still, here you go!**

* * *

Mel paced around the hut again, glaring at Caleb ever so often. Glaring at how tempted he was to eat the _steak_ that was on the plate he was being offered. Not only a steak, but mashed potatoes and the works.

_Fight it man, fight it!_

"It will be a clear night tonight, as well." Caleb said, "Just look now—one side of the sky is still bright with the sun. The other, holding more stars than you can count—and only a micro-sized piece of the universe! Compared to everything else in the solar system, we are _less_ than specks of dust! We are the size of atoms compared to giant suns, like Beetlejuice!"

He said nothing. Justin had gone back on his word—he was going to let Mel eat, get tired, then start the hunt at dawn precisely. Just so the others wouldn't have the chance to set up any traps, or whatever they were going to do, and so Mel wouldn't spend the whole night thinking about the hunt.

He sighed, looking out the window and at the starry night sky. "Stars, hide your fires. Let not light see his black and deep desires."+

"Don't you mean '_my_ black and deep desires?'"

He turned around sluggishly, looking at the hunter with tiresome eyes. "They are not _my_ black and deep desires. But yes, I am staring at a deep desire right now. Almost drooling over it."

"Then eat! It is for you." He shoved the plate in the air, the smell of the meat drifting through the whole room.

_Damn. Be strong, be—_

He sat down and began eating, savoring the sweet, sweet bliss the taste brought.

* * *

"Hurry! No, wait! Sh! Justin's coming!" Mom, Maggie and I crouched down behind the pile of rocks as Justin walked by, holding the rifle.

We waited, counting to thirty, before his footsteps were completely muffled by the jungle noises. Then we secured the trip-wire, and hoped the men were done with their own traps.

I was sort of hoping it had something to do with explosives.

But, our deal was this: women take care of the nearby caves, men take care of off-the-path traps. We warn Mel tomorrow about what to avoid, and sit back and watch Justin and Caleb kill each other.

Fool-proof plan, right? Problem is—and I bet Mom and Maggie were thinking the same thing—nothing ever goes as planned in our lives. We'll just have to see, won't we?

* * *

It was six in the morning when the hunters dragged everybody up—they said otherwise, but it was for the castaways' last goodbye.

Plans had been arranged—Stephanie told Mel about the traps, where they were, and, most importantly: how to lead Justin right into one.

"One of them is really easy to hurt him with," She said, "It's basically disguised quicksand. There's going to be a clearing, full of palm leaves. Use a vine or something to get across, or else you'll _really_ be in trouble. And then there're several traps in different clearings, if stepped in, that can pull you ten feet into the air. Avoid the flower bushes, that's where they are."

He had taken that into note, and was now clenching and unclenching his fists in anxiety.

Justin turned to them all, pacing back and forth. "Just in case anybody tries any funny business, Caleb will be here to guard you all."

As if in answer to this, the bald man cocked his gun.

"I will be the one hunting here." He turned to look at Mel, "It'll be fair. One man against one."

"_Fair_," he spat out, "would be letting me have a gun as well."

He smirked, "When you're the hunter you can decide what's best for your prey."

Stephanie sneered at him, crossing her arms, "If there weren't two loaded guns in front of me I'd kick your butt, little man!"

"Feisty girl, aren't you? Maybe you can _on my next hunt_."

She clenched her jaw, but said nothing. No use making this even worse.

"I thought the people were supposed to be here today!" Izzy protested.

"Ooh. Did I say that? I meant _tomorrow_ at ten or eleven. But, no more stalling—let's begin this." He faced Mel, "You have about thirty minutes to run. If you return to camp, then expect my associate to shoot you on the spot. *_Executer, petit lapin. Executer_."

"What?" Mel stared at him blankly.

"It means," Cecil said, "Run, little rabbit run, in French—I suggest you do as he says."

"Oh, right. I fare thee well!" He saluted to the castaways and started running into the forest.

* * *

He wasn't looking down—only at the hanging vines that were _in his way_. Feet flying out from underneath him, Mel was just as fast, if not quicker as of right now, than lightening.

His thirty minutes were up. Justin's warning shot proved it, just a minute ago.

He had not stopped running for his dear life when snapping branches caused him to go into deer-in-the-headlights mode, and now he had no idea where the heck he was.

Slowing down slightly, and then stopping, he looked around. This was a few yards away from the mouth of the cave where Eric used to live.

_No—Stephanie said they rigged it. All of the caves._

He continued on, especially when the sound of snapping branches got louder.

Pretty soon, the ground began to slant downward, into a hill. Mel had no memory of climbing up any higher grounds, but still ran. Justin was following him, there were too many footsteps and braking branches for there _not_ to be a chase going on here.

But Mel's first mistake was to lose sight of the ground.

He tripped and tumbled down the hill, landing under some brush. His foot slowly began to sting and burn, up to the point of it being unmovable. However, he lay completely still as Justin ran by, the hunter not noticing Mel lying right there.

_Let's see . . . I'm fairly certain I have a broken leg . . . I am being hunted down by a homicidal maniac . . . And I think I landed in a patch of poison ivy._

He groaned while getting up, and continued slowly forward with a heavy limp. That is, in the _opposite_ direction of Justin.

* * *

_Meanwhile, the castaways were all at the camp, eating breakfast…. A certain not so mild-mannered Stephanie Simpson enjoying her pancakes made out of wild turtle eggs and other different things. Syrup being the sap from a few trees in one clearing we discovered yesterday._

_Suddenly, a gunshot goes off. Hoping it isn't her friend, she sits quietly at the table, holding her tongue. As everybody else does. And as much as it burns to keep still. _

Okay, this sucked. As much as I actually liked the pancakes, it was sort of unnerving with the memory of Justin's timer going off. When it did, he whooped and shot the gun straight up into the air, heading into the forest like a football player right before the game, shouting, "Here I come, little rabbit!"

If that wasn't disturbing, I don't know what is (well—there are several other things from Springfield that still creep me out. And then what Troy McClure had in his bag still freaks me out to this day).

But now we were stuck with a silent freak with a gun, who wouldn't talk for nothin'. Literally. He sat in a corner of the clearing, watching our every move. When I tried to whisper something to Mom, he pointed the gun at me and said, "Whatever you need to say shall be said out loud for all to hear."

In which I replied, "I don't know about you, but does anyone else _really_ wanna hear us talk about hot guys and drama?" Cecil flexed his arm, earning all laughs from the rest of us.

We were allowed to whisper now.

Anyway, I was hoping Mel didn't forget any of the traps. Especially the one he was supposed to lead Justin to, right after the rest of us take out Caleb.

Which Isabella actually did. With a frying pan. Yep, snuck up behind him before Maggie or Gino could use the machete. "Okay," I said, "Now some of us just need to introduce him and some rope to a chair, and the rest need to help Mel."

"We got em'," Maggie said, "You guys go beat up Justin."

I think we're on the right track with that girl, for once in our family's heritage.

* * *

Mel cried out as his foot went out from underneath him, causing his wound to snap in—well, in a pretty bad way. The trap, one that he had been _so careful_ to avoid and lead Justin to, pulled his body almost ten feet in the air. He swung there for about five seconds before (guess who?) the hunter came into the clearing.

He started laughing, "Little pig! Little pig! Come out and play, won't you?" Mel heard the gun being cocked, right beneath him, and Justin speaking in a sickly sweet voice. Like, the kind that if it told you to walk into a pit full of poisonous daggers, you'd do it. "Let's just go ahead and finish this now. You're hurt, aren't you, Sideshow? Your footprints suggest a _huge_ limp there, with all the weight you put on your leg. Want me to putcha' outta your misery?"

_Something else has drugged his mind as well . . ._

Put aside the insane rage in hunting humans and all, there _was_ something off about Justin's voice. His words came out slurred together, like he was . . . _drunk_.

He grinned despite himself and the circumstances, making a mental note to hug whoever spiked the madman's water bottle. Mel crossed his arms, almost giddy even, if not for the gun in the drunk man's arms.

"You wanna have a go at me? Well, I'll show you . . . !" He pointed the gun straight up at Mel, not actually looking. Just like Texas Guy usually did, anytime and anywhere.

And then, in unbearable slow motion, the gun went off.

. . . And astonished Mel at how close he was to being deaf as the bullet just barely grazed his ear.

The hunter went off into the forest, talking to himself. Mostly about turkeys.

He hung there for another few minutes before an incredibly loud SNAP echoed through the forest, and someone (presumably Justin) let out a steady stream of curse words.

Stephanie, Marge, and Cecil came into the small clearing. Stephanie was grinning, "I'll need to remember some of those for a rainy day."

"Stephanie!" Marge elbowed her, "The language in our family is bad enough."

Cecil drew out a pocket knife from his pocket, heading over to a palm tree. He cleared aside a few palm leaves, and cut the weight that was keeping Mel up there.

"Ah! No! Wait! My leg—" He fell to the ground, the leg making another crack that didn't sound or feel too good. Mel shuddered as the pain spiked up and down his body in waves. "—Is. Broken."

"HEY!" Isabella's voice shattered the forest, "HE'S GETTING AWAY!" Everybody immediately started running to the camp, Marge and Cecil helping Mel.

By the time they were out of earshot, Justin tumbled through the forest, heading towards the lagoon. "Ah' alla the _stupid_, _dumb_, and _stupid_ things in the world, we had to foiled by a clown's sidekick!" He stopped running, and shook his head. "Aw, _jeez_. We were foiled by a _clown's sidekick!"_

* * *

Both Caleb and Justin were already thirty something feet above the island before we got to the lagoon in time. We shouted and waved, despite what they just did, for them to come back. What else _could_ we do? Obviously he HADN'T called anybody about us. Or if he did, then he called it off.

Caleb had escaped because of an over-looked Swiss knife in his pocket (ugh). But the children already felt horrible, and the rest of us felt even worse for not watching Justin. Well, Mel WAS hurt and all, but still.

But I wouldn't have gone with whoever that maniac had called to "rescue" us anyway. Probably more man-hunters or something. But still, I think this time really broke us. Why does everybody that comes to this island turn out to be homicidal maniacs or creepy movie producers?!

So, with heavy hearts, we went back to the camp. Another rescue gone wrong, and now the only thing that would stop everything from going back to completely normal (as it usually does) was Mel's broken leg. I went into my hut, exhausted. None of us got any sleep last night because we were setting traps (which would need to be undone, since they were never used!).

"Oh, by the way," Mel called out, "Who spiked his water bottle? Because he was definitely drunk."

I frowned slightly, but a wicked grin from Gino told us everything. I forgot we had grapes on the island.

* * *

**I just realized how long the chapters of this story are—like, at the very least eight to twelve pages. :P **

**+ - Macbeth; I can't currently remember which scene.**

***- 'Run, little rabbit. Run.' French, as Cecil said.**


	19. 1 Stupid Krusty

**Angel on the Island**: The castaways put on a play Ginger was going to star in on Broadway, with Mr. Howell as the director—but he has different plans for a cast-switch with his wife and Ginger.

– _Stupid Krusty…_ : A month has now passed on the island. Krusty has returned from his tropical cruise, and had an apology for Mel for standing him up: a leading role in a famous Shakespearian play. Since he can't do it on the mainland, the castaways decide to put on the play just for themselves.

* * *

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

It was just around two days after Justin and Caleb left when we heard on the radio Krusty's return from his cruise. And let me tell you, it was _hilarious_ when he found out what happened to us! Even if he just went off about ratings, and how low they'd be without Mel there, he also began to wonder—_out loud_—about how _high_ his ratings would be if he started a charity fund for our rescue, and helped out our families, yada-yada-yada.

But he said all of this out loud. On the radio. Here's how the whole thing went:

"—_Live news coverage of Krusty the Clown's return from his tropical cruise to and from the Caribbean Sea."_

"Ugh," I said, "Want me to change it? Or wait and see if we're brought up?"

It was just Mel and I in the clearing. Everyone else was spread throughout the island somewhere. Someone had to be watching him, with the broken leg and all.

"No, keep it on here. This should be good."

"_It's good to be back, Kent," _Krusty said, "_Though I did something that I probably shouldn't have before I left."_

"Hey," I said, "Why _is_ everything important or related to us broadcasted on a radio, possibly the lowest form of communication in todays' world?"

"Not in cars. Sh!"

"_Oh? And what would that be?"_

"_I maybe . . . ah, kinda sorta tricked Sideshow Mel into working with my latest contest winners with their boat. I mean, I don't feel right bout' it, and he obviously isn't here right now. So, Mel, if you're listening to this right now, I got you a leading role in Macbeth."_

Mel spit out a gulp of fruit punch at almost comical timing. "_What?!_"

"_Ooh-hoo-o-o-o, Krusty. We thought you knew!"_

"_Knew what, Kent?"_

"_That that boat you gave them was swept out to sea. The passengers were Marge, Stephanie, and Maggie Simpson, Cecil and Gino Terwilliger, and then YOUR sidekick, Sideshow Mel."_

There was about four seconds of dead air until Krusty went off about all the stuff I mentioned earlier.

"_Krusty," _Kent said,_ "If what you just now said is true, then YOU are responsible for their disappearance. At least part of it, anyway."_

And then that marks the first time I heard a clown swear. I turned to Mel, sitting next to me with his jaw dropped, as the ranting continued. "So . . . Whaddya think bout' alla this?"

He didn't have time to answer before _Lisa_ unexpectedly spoke up. I will never say it out loud, but the sound of her voice made me sort of homesick. After a full month away from everybody and thing, what do you expect? "_As much as I WOULD like to blame somebody for this, everyone, it isn't Krusty's fault."_

Uh-oh. I knew what was coming next, with our family's history.

"_I think it may have had something to do with the Terwilligers who were on board that ship."_

Yep. "Though that is partly true, it _was_ mostly an accident. They haven't tried to kill us since we were shipwrecked, you have to give them something for that."

"Notice how no one on there speaks when we do," Mel said. "It's quite odd."

"_Think about it! They hate our families, they're missing too—there's a connection here. Maybe they came aboard, ready to kill, and that storm did the rest. Or they actually _did_ . . ."_ She stopped there.

It amazed me at how much everyone back at home has missed. I mean, we've gone through the most excitement I've had since . . . well, since we discovered Grandpa used to be a pro-wrestler and he and Bart almost became famous. So it's a good thing I'm keeping track of these days!

"_Either way, they had something to do with it, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this!"_

"Good luck with that," he said, "while _we're _the ones on a deserted island."

"In _Hawaii_," I added. "Or south of it, anyway."

"_Well, that concludes today's news. Join us tomorrow, when we check up on the case. Since it's one of the most exciting things that's happened in a while to us."_

I turned off the radio, turning to him. "We need to tell the others about this."

"Uh . . ." He looked down at his leg.

"Oh. Right." I looked around awkwardly. "Ah-I'll tell them. Don't fall off your chair, or get taken by natives, or whatever else that can happen because of our luck."

* * *

So, whenever we were all together, Mel and I told them everything we heard. On one hand, Mom suggested we just put on _Macbeth_ to take our minds off of the shipwreck. Also because Mel wouldn't exactly be able to play the role on the _mainland_. On the other hand, we couldn't just drop the subject.

Lisa was smart, but she could spread around ideas like wildfire (except for the one time she proved Jebediah Springfield was really an evil pirate—nobody really listened to or believed her). But we _did_ have four testimonies proving Cecil and Gino were innocent, so.

I guess they were safe, for now.

And hey! If she wanted to track us down, we'll whole-heartedly let her! But, for now, I had the pleasure of playing Witch #2 in _Macbeth_.

* * *

**I know, it's short (for this story, anyway). This may have to be another three-parter, unless I can squeeze the next one under fifteen pages on a Word document. :P**


	20. 2 Stupid Krusty

**Congratulations to finishing 'Being the Slave,' SidfeshowJazz1! :) If you have anything you'd like to see on the island, or have anybody do, just tell me. The same goes for any other readers out there (if you are, then please review!)!**

* * *

I yawned, got up and stretched, and went out the clearing. Same old, same old. Aside from that dream.

"Hey," I said, "does anyone else think ventriloquist dummies are creepy other than me?"

"Mmm, why sweetie?" Mom gave me a plateful of pancakes.

"Because last night I had a dream about this one dummy, named Slappy or something like that. It almost felt like flashbacks of different times, and in most of them he was terrorizing these different girls. It was just creepy, that's all."

Izzy smiled. Wickedly. I hate it when she does that. "I happen to _love_ creepy dolls. I draw the line at ventriloquist dummies because those are just plain evil, but otherwise I adore creepy dolls. Especially creepy _China_ dolls. I even have one if you want to see."

She ran off into her hut as Cecil said, "I would consider _her_ creepier than any dummy."

"Agreed," I nodded.

"It's probably nothing, anyway."

"No, I would say it's holding a knife and grinning, knowing her. Probably named 'Talking Tina,'* too."

"No, I meant the dream. Sometimes we all have realistic dreams like that. But when it gets down to the point, it's generally nothing."

Izzy came running back up at that moment, true to her word, with a creepy-ass doll. "Generally, generalizations are wrong. But here she is!"

She plopped that doll right next to my elbow on the table. It had blond hair, dirty and messy, and a brown old-fashioned dress that made her look like she belonged in _Les Mis._ The skin was snow-white, cracked in some places, and she wore painted on black shoes. Her eyes were starting to chip off, but you could still see that they were a dirty gray.

"Oh my—" Cecil jumped a little.

"Her name's **Prudence," Izzy said with yet another creepy smile, and she looked at me with a smirk on that little four-year-old face, "And she _likes_ you."

"Does she have a knife?"

"Not yet."

Everyone at the table (including me) got up except for Gino and Maggie, the Shakespearian play forgotten.

Well. It gave me an excuse to not eat turtle eggs (as good as they actually are…Jeez, I need a touch of reality).

I ended up meeting up with Mel somewhere in the forest. "Hey. Shouldn't you _not_ be on your crutches? Or feet period?"

"If Krusty could pour liquid nitrogen down my pants," he answered truthfully, "and crack my buttocks with a hammer and I would still be able to do the next show, then I think I can walk with a broken leg."

I grinned. "Tough luck. Think you can play your role tonight?"

"No, I think I am going to stay in bed and listen to you from in there."

"Too bad. I took the time to memorize Shakespeare for you, the least you can do is give me a good reason."

"I'll consider it," He laughed.

"Need any help walking?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You sure?"

"Certain," he nodded.

"Later then!" I walked off then, and decided to talk to Isabella about some serious therapy.

* * *

Okay, put aside the creepy dolls for now, Macbeth's role was a lot harder to play in crutches. We decided not to use our make-shift stage out of the two tables, and just did it in a clearing.

Mel, of course, was Macbeth. Mom was Lady Macbeth, while the rest of the girls were witches. Cecil and Gino split the other roles.

And hey—it was actually pretty fun! As much as I wanted to sing the 'double, double, toil and trouble' scene (that came from Harry Potter), it also reminded me of that _Animaniacs_ skit, whenever Yakko depicted what they were saying.

Seriously though. I really wanted to do either just one of those or both, but everyone else except for Isabella and Maggie said maybe after the real play. So, here's how our scene went:

We stood over our cooking pot, and said, "Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble!" We were also putting things in the cauldron, to make it a bit more realistic.

I said, "Fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake;  
"Eye of newt and toe of frog,  
"Wool of bat and tongue of dog,  
"Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,  
"Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,  
"For a charm of powerful trouble,  
"Like a hell-broth boil and bubble."

We all said, "Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble!"

It went on, until our cauldron really _did_ begin to bubble and shake some. We all took a step back.

I said, "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes . . ."

Something like the reaction of shaking a soda can before you open it happened. It began to bubble and fiz, and what came out _looked_ like shaken-up coke . . .

"Uh," Mel said, "What did you put in there?" We all were on the stage now, looking at the pot.

Isabella looked down at the drink labels we had mixed. "I think we used the ingredients to a—Virgin Cuba Libre+. Except we used some sugar."

I started laughing, "Isn't that rum and coke without the rum?"

"Yes," Izzy dipped her pinky into the pot, and sucked on the finger. "Yeah, I think we three witches just made coke. Razzle-dazzle. Magic."

"Sweet! Wait a minute—how the heck do you know how to mix drinks?"

"I watched Momma and Father often. When we used up the rest of our alcohol, Father started writing down the ingredients over and over again to specific drinks." She shrugged, "I started reading them after a while. How do _you_ know what it is?"

I shrugged. "Though he mostly drinks Duff beer, my dad drinks too," Mom made her trademark groan at that. "So. We seriously just made Coke? Should we stop the play here, or go on?"

We all looked at Mel.

"It's your call, Mel."

He smirked. "Well. The ground may need a while to absorb the soda, I'm in too much pain to continue walking on and off the 'stage,' and our cauldron hasn't stopped fizzing. Why don't we call it a play and drink to it?"

We all cheered.

* * *

Isabella woke up to darkness. She moaned a little.

Her back hurt. And head—it was throbbing. What worried her the most was that she could hear her heartbeat outside of her mind. Either that, or it was just that loud.

She tried to move her arms and legs—they were tied. She focused on her hands, and twisted them until they were sweaty. She looked up and around.

Darkness. Nothing. She was lying on her side.

She rolled over, and still saw nothing—blindfolded. Her mouth was gagged, too. She attempted to wiggle it off with her tongue—despite the sour, salt-tasting cloth, she got it off and sucked in deep, heavy breaths.

_Where am I? Who brought me here?_

She drew in a gasp. "Eh-Eric . . ? Are you here?"

Her voice echoed off the cave walls, proving it went a lot deeper than a measly twenty feet. No, Eric was dead. Stephanie and Cecil told her so, he was dead and gone. Isabella thought back, tried to remember when this happened.

_No. All I remember is heading to my hut. And then . . . Pain in the brain. And darkness. Did somebody hit me with a frying pan? _

"Help," She whispered, "Help!" It rocketed off the walls in mocks of her own meek and very small voice. It was weak. "_Help!_"

* * *

***Gasp* What happened to Isabella? You'll hopefully find out soon!**

***- If you've never seen the Twilight episode 'Talking Tina,' you seriously should. It's like the original Slappy!**

****- Prudence was the creepy-a$$ doll that was in the antique shop. We got her a couple of months ago, and she definitely looks better cleaned. ^_^**

**+ - Learned from the **_**Big Bang Theory**_**. As cool as it would be, I don't actually know how to make coke out of a few non-alcoholic drinks.**


	21. 1 Taken

**I know I've had them on the island for a while now, so I'm trying to shorten their days here because I still want to write out more Gilligan parodies. But I'm trying to aim for the end of their summer, or around that time that they get rescued.**

* * *

**The Kidnapper: the women on the island are each taken and hidden for ransom.**

– _Taken: _Same thing, only with a twist.

* * *

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this shady pier

(_Fat Tony's watching two of his men carry a body-sized Hefty bag into the sea)_

Aboard that crappy ship

The mate wasn't really a man, so

(_Pan to Stephanie crossing her arms)_

The skipper strange and unsure

(_Pan to Marge vacuuming at home)_

Two passengers cut the rope

(_Pan to that scene)_

Planning to kill four

Planning to kill four

(_Thunder and lightning)_

The weather started acting up

That crummy ship was tossed

If not for the defenseless crew

They would have been lost

They would have been lost.

Well, the ship ending up crashing

Onto the shore of a deserted isle

With the teenager (pan to Steph)

My OC too (Isabella)

A pretty big snob (Cecil)

His best friend (Marge)

A clown's sidekick (Mel)

A homicidal baby (Gino)

And Maggie (Maggie)

Here on Someone's Island!

* * *

I ran out to the breakfast table. Only Mom, Cecil, and Maggie were there. "Hey, has anyone seen Isabella? Her bed hasn't been slept in." Mom set down a fruit salad, which I pushed away in disgust. "I've already lost half my body weight from a fruit diet on this island, thank you. But seriously, I didn't even see her in the hut when I went to bed last night."

"Well," She said, "maybe she went to bed late and woke up early."

"And made her bed?" I scoffed.

"Since when does she make her bed?!" Maggie exclaimed, "And since when does she even sleep in her—oh yeah." We looked at Cecil.

He stopped chewing and swallowed. I almost felt sorry for this awkward moment, but I just had a bad feeling, like when Eric was still around. "I didn't see her either! I thought she was in her own bed."

"Where's Mel, then?" I asked.

"Still in his hut," Mom answered, "Don't wake him. He had three times the physical therapy he usually has by walking to and away from the clearing we put the play on. He wouldn't know where she is."

"Mm. I still don't feel right—it's like the same feeling I got from Eric being on the island. All that tension building up, like something bad was about to happen."

"Mmm, maybe it's just the coke. It has been a while since we drank anything but fruit punch, coconut milk, and water."

Sure. Right. That's _totally_ it. I know the difference between a sugar rush and a gut feeling, I've had enough of them. "Okay . . ."

"Hey!" Gino ran up to the table, "This note-eh! Isabella!"

Mom took it. "Where do these people keep getting paper from?!"

"Maybe they bring their own?" I suggested, "Just read it," We crowded around her. I half-listened to her, reading ahead.

_To the castaways on this island,_

_I have your little girl. If you ever want to see her again, then pay me, in cash, two-hundred bucks. Leave it in the giant log that's by the big boulder._

_I know you got cash, I saw the sideshow!_

_Sincerely,_

_S.J._

S.J? Another stranger, or someone from Springfield?

I gasped as soon as I finished reading it. "I told you so!"

"Let's go wake Mel, then," Cecil said.

It _was_ pretty funny, seeing the look on his face when he realized we were all standing in his hut. He sat up slowly, eyeing us all.

But, then we had to break it to him that Isabella had been kidnapped and it was up to him to rescue her.

* * *

It was cold in the cave. Isabella rolled over again, feeling the darkness spread from her skin to her blood.

" Hello?!" Her voice was hoarse from calling for help now. "Anyone there?" Nothing still. She had just heard the beating of her heart and breathing. *"I'm lonely, can I sing?"

Echoes of the broken silence pushed her to sing.

"_I feel your fingers," _she shuddered,_ "Cold. On my shoulder—the chilling touch that runs down my spine. Watching your eyes as they invade my soul. A kidnapping I'm afraid to ask you why!"_

The man grinned as she continued singing, totally unaware that he was really there.

"_At the touch of a hand, at the sound of a voice, at the moment any eyes meet mine—I will lose my mind I'll get outta control, full of feelings I can't describe!"_

"_It's a sin with no name…"_

She stopped. That wasn't Eric's voice, and this man had a bad singing voice. But, if he _was_ anything like Eric:_ "Like a hand in a flame."_

They both sung together_, "But it's true all the same, it's a dangerous game!"_

He took off her blindfold, smirking. "My name is Snake Jailbird."

* * *

***- Dangerous Game, from **_**Jekyll and Hyde**_**.**


End file.
